


Grand Allegro

by PaperAnn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, Barebacking, Bottom Sam, Charlie Ships It, Dancer Sam, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Past Ruby/Sam Winchester, Reporter Gabriel, Sabriel Big Bang 2015, Sam is a Tease, Secret Relationship, Self-Worth Issues, Top Gabriel, Topping from the Bottom, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 60,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5807164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperAnn/pseuds/PaperAnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel works for a highly recognized, respectable and famous online news site.  All his articles are fan-favorites for their quirk and comedy, allowing him to have free rein over his subject matter.   Whether it be celebrity interviews, ‘politely’ harassing politicians or reviewing the latest movies.  But one of his most recent articles managed to enrage the site’s editor.  Mostly because he went behind her back, vigilante-style, to publish it… </p><p>For revenge, she’s given him the assignment of covering the grand opening of the New York City Ballet's Swan Lake.  No one wants the job, and the worst part is Gabriel <i>hates</i> ballet.  </p><p>However, once he catches a glimpse of the leading male dancer he begins to come up with ideas of how to make his article and experience… entertaining.  Little does he know, this dancer knows exactly how to entertain and keep Gabriel on the edge of his seat all by himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, thank you to my beta [Spicari](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spicari/), who was amazing to work with: prompt, professional and such a sweetheart <3 
> 
> Lots of love goes out to [Litra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/litra/), who created such gorgeous, _perfect_ art for the fic!
> 
> Special shout-out to my soulmate, [Kittenbot](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenbot/), for brainstorming help (on a fic she hasn't even read) and continuous moral support :)
> 
> After four concepts got out of hand, I finally settled on turning my personal semi-professional dance experience into something. I had so much fun writing this fic, and it is my first COMPLETE 100% Sabriel work (second Big Bang) and I admit I'm nervous! I hope everyone enjoys it, and let me know what you think! xoxo

Gabriel knew he’d fucked up, but it wasn’t exactly like this was the first time.  He was used to getting angry emails, being shouted at over the phone, _but_ this was the only time he’d been called into his _boss’ office_.

Most of the time, he worked remotely because his journalism job gave him that freedom.  Still, Abaddon required a certain amount of hours for all her employees to clock into their headquarters, and Gabriel was having a ‘wrong place, wrong time’ kind of conundrum.

He worked for an online news site.

But not just _any_ online news site.

_In A Nutshell_  was highly recognized, well-respected and newly famous.

Gabriel wasn’t one to brag (okay, he _totally_ was) but all of his articles were fan favorites for their quirk and comedy.  Hell, _he_ was the reason they had recently surpassed BuzzFeed in views, because he was just that fucking awesome.

He was a huge asset to the team and Gabriel’s notoriety made it possible for the company to spend the big bucks to send him all over the world for his articles.  He had free rein over his subject matter - be it celebrity interviews (with the liberty of writing his own questions), politely harassing politicians (because only he had the balls to do it), or giving his two cents about trashy outfits on the red carpet.  Sometimes he even went for hot topic social issues, giving his own spin on debates in a way no one else could.  He could literally write about _anything_.  They didn't nickname him 'The Nutcracker' for shits and giggles, after all.

Yet, his last article may have gotten him into some trouble.

Well, not the _article_ but the woman he wrote about was threatening to sue for "taking her words out of context" and "portraying her in a terrible light."  Oh, an even better quote was "making her look like the devil, Satan, himself."  That one was probably his favorite so far.

The chick was a fucking _bigot_ hiding behind her religion and Gabriel felt the need to get the word out there and expose her for who she really was.  He loathed crap between church and state to begin with, and the moment he met the woman she made his skin crawl with how arrogant and downright delusional she was about her God-sent mission.  While his head-boss-lady editor would _never_ allow it...he may or may not have paid off the publisher to get it on the website _before_ she could even see it.

It was live all through the night, until Abaddon woke up the next morning to a call from said bitch’s lawyer.  Having no idea Gabriel uploaded this, since she hadn’t given him the go-ahead which was required of _every_ article, she said she’d need to call them back and apologized ahead of time.  Which was something Abaddon detested doing - the words "I’m sorry" never left her mouth because she never put herself in the position where they’d need to.  The woman was a terror, but it was because of her tenacity and working through legal loopholes with the best lawyers that they were able to upload the material they did.  And Gabriel’s… wasn’t quite up to snuff in the rules of legality on this one.

Needless to say, it was taken down from the website - but the damage had already been done.

Readers had screenshotted it, people were cheering the website for having the guts to say all the things that needed to be said, but now there was damage control.

Because Gabriel hadn’t exactly held back.  At all.

The article was bold, brazen, littered with colorful language and unapologetic.  It had gone viral in the blink of an eye.

The damage was done.  
  
Even though the article was removed, and she had somewhat salvaged the situation, he was now still being called into the boss’ office.

Gabriel felt like he was walking towards the gallows.

Still, when he opened the door he pasted on a smile and greeted her with, “Good afternoon, Abby, you’re looking _gorgeous_ , as always-”

“Shut up and sit down.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He dropped to the seat so fast it jarred him like a bobble head, hoping that following her every word would appease the beast.  Because she was fucking terrifying.

“Do you have _any idea_ how much trouble you’ve caused?”  She hissed across her desk, eyes narrowed while the pen in her hand looked as though it would snap in two.

He visibly gulped and tried a, “I thought you hired me because I like trouble.”

“You’re damn lucky we were able to settle this by removing it and pushing the First Amendment.  I think your self-worth has become terribly skewed, Gabriel.”  She slammed down the pen and huffed out a breath.  “You’re on _probation_.  Not just for the article, but for going behind my back and publishing without my approval.”

“Probation?”  Gabriel echoed, his eyebrows knitted together on his forehead.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m giving you assignments, you no longer get to _choose_ your subject matter.”  She crossed her legs and watched happily as the life drained from her employee's eyes.  “You’re going to do an expo about the New York City Ballet's grand opening of Swan Lake.  I don’t care what you do - no one else wants it.  Get to know the dancers, the show, review it, give teasers, I don’t give a shit.  Just get me an article before it premiers.”

“How the _fucking fuck_ am I supposed to make a _ballet_ interesting?!”  His jaw was dropped, “You’re askin’ the impossible, Abby, you _know that_ and-”

“And _you_ know that you fucked up with your last article.  Prove you’ve still got it.”  A wicked smile crossed her face, then she added a saccharine, “I thought you were one of our _best_?”

Gabriel gritted his teeth so hard his jaw hurt, a bitchy comment was poised right on the tip of his tongue.  “Fine.”  He finally grunted out.  “I’ll go through with my probation.  I’ll cover your little ballet blurb.  And it’s gonna be fuckin’ _awesome_!”  He stood up from the chair, turned around and stomped out of the room, trying to ignore her cackling.

Because they both knew the undeniable question… how the _hell_ was he going to pull this off?

\----------------

One of the many things that sucked about this assignment was that Gabriel couldn’t even travel and allow himself to be distracted by a change of scenery.  Because he _lived_ in goddamn New York, where the friggin Ballet Company was based.  He was in his loft, slaving away over his laptop to do any background research he needed to before actually meeting with the company.  It was Thursday and he had already set up a meeting for Saturday to watch the rehearsal process.

His brain was in overdrive, trying to come up with any idea on how the hell he could make this compelling and worth the read.  He didn’t want it to be a stupid behind-the-scenes look, followed by a brief glimpse of the plot and then the inevitable review.  No, he was better than that.  Gabriel had half a mind to call up Natalie Portman and ask her a few off-color questions about her experience with dancing the actual ballet, and of course, the lesbian scene.  Because you couldn’t just talk about Black Swan without the lesbian shit, it was an unwritten rule.  

Maybe if he was stumped, he could add _that_ to the list of ways to save this mess.  
  
Unfortunately, this was the real _Swan_ fuckin’ _Lake_.

He clicked through the NYCB website when he came across the cast page and-

_Hello, there._

Gabriel was completely caught off guard as his eyes landed on the _beautiful_ piece of man who was dancing the male lead of Prince Siegfried.  He admittedly spent way more time looking at - what was this dude’s name - _Sam Winchester -_ than he probably should.  But the kid was _more_ than a ten.  He had one of those bright smiles that drew you in, coupled with honest eyes.  As Gabriel clicked through the gallery to see pictures of a Pas De Deux and other numbers from a previous show, he realized he was a _giant_.

Which, even Gabriel knew, was not typical for your average dancer.  But it made for something unique:  
  
The ballerina dancing the female role was soaring high above the stage, held effortlessly by his arms and, _damn_ , Gabriel had never appreciated men in tights until right about _now_.  You could see the definition of every goddamn muscle, and Gabriel hoped he wasn’t physically drooling.  He had to check his possible traitor of a mouth, just in case.

All right.  Maybe this assignment wasn’t going to suck as bad as he thought.

Gabriel decided he’d done enough background research for one night, because if he continued to do any more it would _officially_ constitute as stalking.  And he didn’t want to be a stalker and know _everything_ about this dancer before he even met him.

Just then, a little hint of inspiration struck and he had an _idea_.  Something quirky and ice-breaking he could totally use for his article.

The dance company was expecting him in two days, but now he had an plan about how he could get the jump on them sooner.  When they weren’t ready for him.  That’s when you got the best material - when people were off guard and unprepared.

Gabriel chuckled to himself as he closed his laptop and exchanged it for a list-styled notebook.

He began to write out more ideas and concepts, all the things that could make everything _fun_ before he had to get down to the nitty-gritty on Saturday.  Because Friday?  Was going to be a whole _different_ story.

\-----------------

Previous to the meeting, the Company's Artistic Director had sent Gabriel the rehearsal schedule in advance (which covered the entire rehearsal process: character calls, scenes, etc. - from start to finish) so he knew exactly when the dancers were done for the day.

Which was why he was currently hovering around the block at 10PM on Friday, waiting for the main cast to come out the backstage door.  If they were sticking with the schedule, that is.

It was a foggy night and the theater was within walking distance from Gabriel’s loft - he was currently praying it wasn’t going to rain.  He could feel the dampness in the air and it sure as hell felt like it, so he was crossing his fingers.  He hadn't had the foresight to bring an umbrella with him, which was why it would suck a big one if mother nature decided to screw him over.

Soon, he could hear voices, and the door swung open to reveal a small herd of dancers giggling in their comfy sweats and warm jackets, carrying duffel bags.

Gabriel’s plan was perfect, because Sam was _right_ in the lead.

_Right_ where he wanted him.

Gabriel prepped with a breath and nodded alongside the inner words of encouragement to himself.  
  
Then he took off _running_ , full speed ahead, directly for Sam and shouted, “Jete!” as he jumped as high as he could - throwing himself into the air.

There was alarm in the man’s eyes as Gabriel came flying at him, and instead of _catching_ him in some kind of ballet move (as Gabriel had _anticipated_ ) Sam’s feet flew out from under him and Gabriel knocked him over.  Which sent them both _tumbling_ onto the pavement.

The wind was completely knocked from Sam’s lungs as he tried to demand, “What the _hell_?!” from where Gabriel was now pinning him down, and struggling.

The four girls behind them were torn between shrieking in terror and laughing their asses off, as Gabriel fell back on his haunches and announced to Sam, “That was disappointing.”

“What?!  Get _off me!_  What’s going on, are you-?!”

With a huff, Gabriel rolled off the man and offered his hand to help the dancer up.  Sam glared at it, before taking it and grunted as he get to his feet.

Before anyone could demand if he was a mugger, a rabid fan, or something else, he introduced himself with, “Name’s Gabriel.  I’m the reporter who’s crashing your rehearsal tomorrow.  But I thought I’d get the jump on you, no pun intended, and get to know the real dancers before you put on your stage makeup.”

The women finally calmed down, but Sam was looking at him with what could only be described as a bitchface, and demanded, “So you thought it’d be a great idea to shove me over in the street?!”

“Dude.  You were _supposed_ to catch me in a fuckin’ arabesque or something fancy.   _You_ were the one who let _me_ down.”  Gabriel firmly planted his hands on his hips.  “What the _hell_ was that?”

One of the women burst out cackling and began wagging her finger at Gabriel, “First inside scoop?  Sam is a klutz off-stage.  He’s like an adorable puppy who hasn’t grown into his paws.”

“Shut up, Ruby,” Sam glared at her something awful.  “I wasn’t expecting someone to catapult themselves at me!”

“At least he yelled ‘jete'?”  A redhead smirked and then offered her hand to Gabriel, which he shook, “I’m Charlie.  It’s nice to meet you.”

“Good to meet you too, darling.”  He clapped his hands together, “Okay.  So, I’ve got Charlie, Ruby and Sam down, _literally_ , who are the other two lovely ladies?”

“I’m Meg and this is Anna.”  A brunette answered with a silky-smooth voice.  “I like your style.”

“Why, thank you.  Now, since we’ve gotta calm down the puppy and I want the good stuff instead of what your Artistic Director feeds me, how about I take you five out and we get some post-rehearsal drinks?”  He tacked on to the end, “I’m buying.”

The women looked among each other, different levels of thrilled and agreed in a heartbeat.  Sam’s feathers were still ruffled, but when Charlie looped her arm through his and said, “Calm your tits,” his shoulders finally released some of the tension.  She then added, “Where we headed?”

“Follow me!”

\-----------------

It turned out to be a blessing they were in Gabriel’s city, because he pulled the group into a popular cocktail bar and the man at the front door recognized him instantly and seated them at a booth in the corner.  The dancers were surprised by the VIP treatment, but from what they’d heard from their AD, the man coming to write the article was big-time.  In moments like this, it showed.

While Gabriel didn’t have a recorder or a notepad, he was still paying attention to every single detail that unfolded: things that were said, interactions between the dancers, stories and the little things.  That’s what made for great reading material.  When your article became personal, and you were writing about _characters -_  that was when the readers could relate.

It was all about the finer details: how every woman ordered either wine, or a vodka water with a splash of sour.  Anything low in calories - which made perfect sense.  A dancer’s body was their tool, their craft, and they needed to keep it in tip-top, skinny slash borderline _scrawny_ shape.  But Sam didn’t hesitate to order whiskey.  Which was something Gabriel appreciated, since he was holding back on his normal fruity concoctions and settled on a Jack and coke.

“So,” Gabriel started in, looking around the circular booth.  “You guys are the stars of this bad boy?”

“Yes and no.”  Anna spoke up while she sipped her wine.  “We were running all the Odette and Odile dances tonight.  Charlie and I are understudies to Ruby and Meg for the first run.  Then the second run, we switch.  Some companies have the same dancer performer both parts of Odette and Odile, other have two dancers.  We’re the latter.”

“But Sammy’s the prince, no matter what?”  Gabriel kept stealing glances at the man, trying to see if his anger was showing any signs of budging.

“It’s _Sam_.  Not Sammy.”

_Nope_.  Not yet.

Gabriel flagged over a waitress and before she could arrive, said to the table, “We’re all gonna be getting nice and cozy before opening.  I think we should take a shot to a _lovely_  new friendship!  Whattya say?”

“Hell yeah,” Meg grinned and turned to Ruby, “Why aren’t all reporters like this?!”

“I’m awesome, I know.”  Gabriel shamelessly winked, and saw Anna hesitating, “Come on, girl.  You can’t leave us hanging.”

Then, a slight grin quirked the corner of her mouth when she asked, “Can it be tequila?”

Gabriel’s eyes were alight with mischief as he replied, “You read my mind!”

\---------------

Somehow, Gabriel managed to get _everyone_ drunk.  
  
It was another talent of his.  Coaxing people into inebriation.  He may as well put it on his resume, he was _that_ fucking good.

While Anna was reserved until the tequila came out, Ruby, Meg and Charlie had very few reservations about free booze.  Sam was the hardest nut to crack, but Gabriel earned his nickname for a damn good reason.  Even though he didn't blame the dancer.  After all, Gabriel had made the _worst_ first impression _known to man_.  Which was why he was serving up the drinks, as a cease-fire, but Sam was chugging them from a place of anger.

Which was never a positive sign.

And that, in itself, was sad.

The dancer (up-close and personal) was even more attractive than he was online, and every time one of the girls would crack a joke, his laugh was fucking _gorgeous_.  It was Gabriel’s current life mission to make him laugh, but the odds were stacked against him.

How had he fucked things up so early?

Not like he was trying for anything, but eye candy always tasted better when it actually put up with you.

Which Sam was _not_ having any of.

When the girls were taking turns going to the bathroom, Gabriel managed to scoot and shimmy his way next to Sam in a crafty game of musical chairs.  

He leaned on his elbow to face the dancer and admitted, “Hey, I’m sorry, ya know.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t twist my ankle or something,” was his biting response as he took another chug of his whiskey.  “If I couldn’t have performed?  God, I don’t even want to think about that.”

“I know, I get it.  And that’s why I’m sorry.”  Gabriel tried to pour as much apology into his voice as he could muster.  He _had_ to make this right, if not only for his own sake, but for the article.

“So,” Sam fiddled with the glass in his hand.  “Is that normal for you?”

“Trust falls with strangers?”  Gabriel laughed and shook his head, “Nah.  But I do like to make lasting first impressions.  That was the first miss I’ve had in a _long_ time.  Which is unfortunate, because I was hoping for a good one.”

“Why?”  Sam asked drunkenly, tilting his head to the side.

“Because you’re hot.  And it sucks when the hot ones are pissed at you.”  Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows.  “Why do you think I decided to target _you_?  I could have ran up and tried to lift Ruby.  Or swung Charlie around.”

The other man opened and closed his mouth a few times, before he asked, “Are you always this shameless?”

“I prefer honest, but yeah.  Life’s too short.”  Gabriel finished his drink and waved down the waitress again, before leaning into Sam‘s personal space.  “What’s it gonna take for you to forgive me?”

He blinked at the proximity and Gabriel could have _sworn_ Sam glanced down at his lips for a split second.  “Uh, _not_ attacking me in the future…?”

Gabe was slid another drink, which he grabbed without breaking eye contact with a lost and nervous looking dancer.  “Define 'attack.'”

If there was one thing Gabriel was confident in, it was catching them and reeling them in nice and slow.  And he wasn’t sure if he had _quite_ hooked Sam or not, but the dancer was definitely out of his element and his only focus was Gabriel.  Sam seemed to be at a loss of words, mouth barely open while he gazed into Gabriel’s eyes.

“Helloooo?”  Ruby’s voice broke the connection and completely destroyed the moment.  “Were you having a staring contest?”

“Yep.”  Gabriel grinned at her, “And I was about to win, and you ruined it!  Just when you thought I was gonna keep your secret about that time you were high on stage!”

“You _wouldn’t_!”  She narrowed her eyes and gasped, “Ugh, that’s _totally_ what you got us drunk for!”

“I’m fucking with you.  That was a hilarious story, though.”  He snickered and realized he could still feel Sam’s eyes following his every move.  “What did you need?  Or is it just some attention, doll?”

“It’s last call,” she stuck her lower lip out into a pout.  “Can you two manly men walk us to get cabs?”

“No problemo, just let me finish this, here-”

Suddenly, the drink was lifted away from his hand and Sam was tipping it back and chugging.  He returned the empty glass with a face and stood up, a little wobbly, while pointing at Gabriel and announcing, “There.  You’re forgiven.”

“Is _that_ all it took?”  Gabriel raised a sly eyebrow.

On the way out the front door, Gabriel exchanged numbers with everyone and ordered they text him when they got home so he knew they were safe.  He didn’t want to be to blame if some of the key dancers didn’t show up for rehearsal tomorrow, after all.

After the girls piled in the cab and waved, Sam began walking.

“Uh, you don’t need a-?”

“I live close.”  He replied with a smirk of his own.  “No cab for me.”

Gabriel’s interest grew, because Sam was walking in the same direction _he was_.  But he didn’t say anything.  He only sent the reporter questioning glances.

Finally, when Sam stopped in front of a run-down apartment building, he asked, “Are you stalking me?”

To which Gabriel replied, “Nope.  Ironically enough, I live three blocks down.”

“Really?”  Sam looked genuinely confused, “You’re not fucking with me?”

“Really.”  He confirmed.  “Not fucking with you a bit.  Might like to, but not at the current time.”

A light blush suddenly graced Sam’s cheeks which Gabriel found intriguing.  So much so, he took a step in to see exactly what Sam would do.  He was surprised the dancer didn’t move away, he kept blatantly watching Gabriel, looking at him with drunk confusion.

Filter gone, Gabriel blurted, “God, you’re fucking adorable.”

“No, I’m not.”  He instantly responded, lips moving into a picture-perfect frown and Gabriel couldn’t hold back any longer.

He reached up to grab the back of Sam’s neck and hauled him downward, pulling him into a kiss.  While the other man seemed shocked at first, he relaxed when his brain caught up, gave in and even opened his mouth.  Gabriel eagerly took that as an invitation to run his tongue along the slightly-opened lips, and was happily surprised when Sam’s tongue brushed against his.

His arms moved to wrap around Gabriel’s waist and pull him closer, but the second the kiss became more heated, more urgent - he pulled away.

They were both slightly breathless, and it was _Gabriel_ uncharacteristically gushing, “I’m sorry, you just- you looked too-”

“It’s okay, don’t be sorry - I just need to get bed, rehearsal starts at ten and I-” he was flustered as he dug through his pocket for his keys and then froze when he realized, “I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel nodded with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, praying he could calm Sam down from a potential freak out.  “I’ll be hanging out with your AD and you’ll be rehearsing.  Like usual.  No big deal.”

“I, uh- all right.”  There was a relieved smile that crossed his face and a sigh.  “Have a good night, Gabriel.”

“You too, kid.”  He winked and waited until Sam was safely inside before he finished the last three blocks walk to his loft.

Tonight _didn’t_ go the way he’d expected.

_At all._

It'd turned around for the better, minus a lighter wallet and some scrapes on his knees.  Hopefully, Sam didn’t regret anything and tomorrow wouldn’t be awkward, because what Gabriel had with the cast right now was a good thing, and writing this article was looking up.


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel was up and at the theater right on time.

Well, _his_ scheduled time.

The artistic director wished to begin rehearsal, and once they were in the swing of things and running through the first act, he would begin speaking with Gabriel about the piece the reporter was writing.  Except when the man introduced himself as Fergus MacLeod (but call me Crowley), he was forcing a smile through gritted teeth while side-eyeing the dancers.

Which didn’t read as anything good.

Not to mention after introductions, the first thing he needed to put a disclaimer on was, “It appears a lot of my principals are performing sub par today.  Please, ignore their shitty showmanship.  Apparently, they’re having an off day.”

Gabriel had to hold back his grin and the 'probably because I got ‘em drunk last night,’ that was on the tip of his tongue.

Looking back on it, for as much fun as they had, if he’d known their AD was such a goddamn Nazi he would have cut them off at buzzed rather than trashed.  Gabriel was excellent when it came to reading people based on his first impressions, and this Crowley dude was a Class-A dick.

Gabriel knew enough about the show and about dancers though his research, that if Ruby was forced to do her thirty-two fouettes, she’d probably lose her lunch (if she even ate, which he sincerely doubted) around rotation number six.

Shit, now Gabriel was honestly rethinking his choices.  That was until Sam and his eyes met across the auditorium and the dancer blushed a little...and then he regretted _nothing_.  Nope.  Not a goddamn thing.

With a secret smile, he turned back to Crowley and said, “Everyone has bad days.  You guys have barely started the rehearsal process, right?”  He made a motion for them to take two of the theater seats, pulling out his notepad, “Tell me what you’ve done so far.”

“Once the Company’s been chosen, we have a season of multiple shows we perform during the year.”  The man rattled off the facts, almost as though he was put out by it, which rubbed Gabriel the wrong way all over again.  “Classics like this are already set in stone when it come to choreography, I’m sure you’ve done your homework, so it’s a matter of teaching the numbers rather than updating the work into anything new.  We can’t have those snooty ballet enthusiasts glaring down their nose if we’ve turned a prep from a chasse into a pas de bourree, now, can we?”

“Yeah.  Uh, definitely can’t have that.”  Gabriel tapped his pen against the paper.  “So it’s all about recreating the original?”

“And perfecting it.”  Crowley confirmed.  “We’ve already auditioned the dancers for their impeccable technical skills.  They’ve already shown through auditions or how many years they’ve been with the company they’re fantastic performers with great stage presence.  Now, it’s _using their brains_ ,” he shouted to the dancers on stage, “and cleaning up what they’ve learned.”

“Sounds easy enough.”  When the words left his lips, the AD scowled something downright murderous at him.

“No.  It’s _not_.  The ensemble has to move as one unit.   _Completely_.  There cannot be so much as an _inhale_ they fail to take together.  If their focus is downstage left and their heads are tilted forward and one _single_ dancer is watching their feet instead?  They’ve _ruined_ it.  If Odette’s landing isn’t executed in a deep enough plie during the Pas de Deux and her pointe shoes clatter like a goddamn elephant?  The elegance is lost.  There are finite details that make us the best.  That make us superior!  We sell out this theater for ridiculously priced tickets for a reason.  So, no.  It’s _not ‘_ easy enough.’”

Gabriel blinked at the intensity of his words and nodded slowly with a hum.  When he looked down to his paper, he wrote out:

 _AD is Hitler in training.  Must never run for office_.

With multiple underlines under the word _‘never_.’

When he met Crowley’s eyes again he smiled, summarizing, “Yep.  Lot more goes into it than I thought.  But they’re trained professionals.  They take corrections well, I’m guessing?  Are you expecting a lot of success for this production?”

“Depends on how loud I yell.”  The man mused and crossed his legs, huffing and shaking his head.  “Which you may hear a lot of today.”

“I gotta say, I admire your honesty but why are you telling me all of these negative things when I’m writing an article about what happens backstage until the performance?”  Gabriel had to inquire.  “All this is on the record.  It sounds like you hate your job, your dancers, and the entire process of being an Artistic Director.”

“Because the end result will be flawless, of course.  Tough love goes into the industry.  And I’m also familiar with _your_ work.”  A smirk worked its way across Crowley’s face.  “You’re not the type of journalist who’d knock a group of hardworking artists.   _I_ can talk as much shit as I want about them, tell you how I feel, but you’re going to look for the ‘quirky and clever stories' to tell.  You’re not going to quote me and my blackened heart.  And I get results, so even if you do mention me in passing?  I‘m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Wow.”  Gabriel stared him down while looking into his eyes.  “You’re really something else.”  Then, slamming his notebook, announced, “I feel bad for the dancers.  I think I got all the information I need out of you.  I’ll watch the rehearsals and get feedback from them, if that’s alright with you, you dick.”

“Fine by me.  As long as you don’t distract them and my rehearsal process.”  Crowley replied easily enough, not even blinking at the insult.  “I know your article about us will be  _splendid_ , Gabriel.  Nice meeting you and chatting.  Let me know if you have any questions.”

The reporter snorted and stood up from the seat and headed for the aisle.  They were back far enough no one on stage could hear them speaking, so Gabriel had a little bit of a trek to walk down and sit near enough to where he had an up close and personal look at the stage.

They were running one of the ensemble numbers and he plopped himself next to Meg, who was fussing with a pair of pointe shoes.

She winked at him and said, “How was chatting with the boss?”

“Worse than butt sex without lube.”  He rolled his eyes, “How do you deal with him?”

“Um, New York City Ballet?”  She rolled her eyes matching his, and then gestured to her bag, “Can you grab me the dental floss in there?  Side pocket.”

“Ew.  Don’t you do that at home?”  Gabriel made a face but dug through and found it regardless.

“Yeah, jackass.  But I just snapped the shank on my rehearsal shoes and had to get new ones.  Time to sew these bitches up.”  She took the floss from his hand, and it was only then Gabriel realized she was holding a needle.  “It’s way stronger than thread,” she mused as she tore off a piece and grabbed the loose elastic strip.  “Funny story, when I was a little girl and sewed up my first pair of pointe shoes, I thought I was a badass, knowing the tricks of the trade from the older girls, with the floss and everything?  When I went to my first day of class, I freaked because where I’d sewn my ribbons and elastics was _green_.  Turns out, you have to use the unflavored kind or you look like a swamp monster.”

“Hah!  I bet they smelled minty-fresh, at least.”  Gabriel snorted as he watched Meg work.

Because these were the things you didn’t think to read about online.  These were the behind-the-scenes looks that he wouldn’t have known about otherwise.

Meg was fast with not only the elastic but the ribbons.  Once she sewed those on, she crossed them in fronts and wrapped them around her ankle in a very specific way before she cut off the extra slack.  Then, the pulled out a lighter to singe the loose fibers of the Craft-scissor cuts to keep them from unraveling.

“You’re easily entertained.”  She laughed and poked Gabriel before she moved to the second shoe.  “Or you have a foot fetish.  Which one is it?”

“Maybe it’s both.”  He wiggled his eyebrows, “So, uh.  Sorry for the hangovers today.  I know the asshole isn’t very happy about it.”

“Fuck him.  He can’t replace us.  Last night was fun as hell.  And _much_ needed.”  Meg’s whole demeanor was strangely reassuring, he decided he liked her a lot.  “Although, Sam is even more of a hot mess off stage than usual.”

“Really?  How?”  The word ‘Sam’ naturally had Gabriel extremely intrigued.

“He’s a special one.”  She snorted and appeared to look thoughtful, “All grace and beauty on stage, but I think that’s where it _all_ goes.  We weren’t messing around when we said he’s like a puppy who hasn’t grown into his paws.  It’s adorably pathetic.  Emphasis on the pathetic.  He tripped up the stairs getting onstage today, almost fell into the orchestra pit.”  She said in a deadpanned voice.  “ _Up_ the stairs.  Jesus, it’s a miracle he’s survived this long.”

On cue, a voice perked up from behind them, becoming louder the closer it got.

“I think Crowley wants us to run all of Act Two.  Have you seen Ruby?”

Meg stood up and looked back at him, “I think she’s having a smoke.  I’ll go grab her.”

“Okay, thanks-”

“You can keep our lovely reporter company while I’m gone,” the woman suggested, as she squeezed past Gabriel and headed to the stage to presumably head out the backstage door.

“Oh, yeah.  I can do that.”  There was a little bit of nervousness in his voice that made Meg pause as Gabriel watched the scene with interest.

Sam sat down next to him all the same, and it was now Gabriel could really get a good look at him.  While all the girls were wearing leotards, tights and skirts or tiny little shorts, he was in a pair of loose capri pants and a tight shirt that showed off a drool-worthy amount of muscle that the costumes on the website did _no_ justice to show off.

“Heya.”  Gabriel greeted with a smile, hoping he hadn’t been gawking too obviously.  “I didn’t shove you to the floor today.  _Wow_.  That sounded way more sexual than intended.  But you catch my drift.”

With an honest-to-God laugh, Sam nodded, “Yeah, round two was better.  Shit.  That was an innuendo too, wasn’t it?”

“Guess we bring out the best in each other.”  He teased with a cluck of his tongue.  “How you feeling today?”

“Shitty.”  He shrugged his shoulders, “At least I’m not the only one.  Charlie’s got it the worst.  She doesn’t normally drink, like, ever.  So she’s been hanging out in the bathroom in between her scenes.”

“Ouch.”  Gabriel felt even worse then.  “I didn’t even think about your rehearsal, so I’m kind of a jerk.  I was just trying to seduce you guys with liquor to get the dirt on your deepest, darkest secrets.”

“So you were trying to seduce everyone?”  Sam raised an challenging eyebrow.

“There are all kinds of seduction, kid.”  He reached out and patted the dancer on the back.  “You were the literal kind.”

“I don’t know whether to feel honored or easy.”  He scoffed at Gabriel's comment and shook his head.

“Well, I can tell you this,” Gabriel leveled a very serious glance at him.  “You’re not easy because you didn’t put out on the first date.  You, sir, are a dapper gentleman.  Does that help with your inner turmoil?”

“First date, huh?”  Sam was beginning to loosen up and banter right back.  “I’ve never had someone physically assault me on the first date.”

“What can I say.  I like to think outside of the box.”

“Sam!  We’re waiting!”  Crowley barked from the other side of the theater.  “Get your bloody ass on stage!”

“Shit.”  Sam huffed under his breath.

Just as the dancer went to stand up, he snagged his foot ( _just_ right) under the theater seat in front of him - and would have taken a nose-dive if Gabriel hadn’t acted fast and dove to catch him.

“Jesus!  They weren’t kidding!”  Gabriel nearly shrieked in alarm from the sudden adrenaline rush.

“Sorry, thanks-” Sam blurted from where Gabriel had his arms wrapped around Sam’s waist, and quickly righted himself.  “Just, _fuck_.”  Then, he hustled to the stairs with a blush on his face.

Gabriel just sat there, blinking because… _really_?  Meg had not been joking in the slightest about that hot piece of man being a klutz.  At least now he got to see if he made up for it with his dancing.

\----------------

Although Gabriel would never give Abby the satisfaction, he was ten seconds away from groveling and _thanking_ her for ‘punishing him’ with this article.

He was fucking memorized by watching Sam move on stage.

It wasn’t the adorable little Moose he’d gotten to know over the course of the last two days, no, he (for lack of a better word) was a goddamn _vision_.

Gabriel had always been one of those douchebags who thought the men who performed ballet were the flamboyantly gay twinks who loved dancing.  He thought it was odd when he met Sam, because in person he didn’t seem like any of those things.  On stage?  He couldn’t be further than the stereotypes Gabriel had admittedly rudely assumed.

Sure, he was graceful and fluid, but he was pure strength.

Not like Ruby was a cow, or anything, but the way he lifted her - the way he asserted control was as if he was moving a paper doll.  Sure, she had her leg above her head and was athletic and elegant all by herself, but with a partner like Sam she was floating like the swan she was meant to be.  And he made it look so fucking easy.

His jumps, his solo work, all of it was leagues above every other artist Gabriel had watched in preparation on YouTube.  The kid got so much air - not just because of his height, but because of his technique, as Gabriel came to realize.  It brought up the concept of Sam being the tallest dancer Gabriel had ever seen, and this Company took a chance on him.  Not only with his skill-set, he added an entirely new dynamic to the pieces because of his stage presence and confidence.

Crowley was right.

It was the _cast_.

They truly were the best of the best.

That’s why no matter how much shit the AD talked about them, Gabriel couldn’t write anything negative in his article even if he wanted to.

He understood why they were so reputable.  Why every child grew up, slaved away in studios and dreamed of moving to New York just to join this company.

Yep.  Gabriel had come into this world hating ballet, but even after one day...his mind was completely changed.  Even if they were hungover, and even if some of the new friends he made the night before weren’t giving their best performances.  It was still one of the best things he’d witnessed live.

Another thing he witnessed, just because he paid attention to every small detail (it came with the territory of being a fucking awesome reporter) was the chemistry between Ruby and Sam.  It was nothing compared to the way he danced with Meg when she was playing Odile in the second Pas de Deux.

Obviously, there had to be a certain amount of trust, when some dude was hauling you up, over eight feet in the air - but their scenes together got Gabriel wondering.  Was it part of the performance?  Or was there something going on between the two?  Because it was really, really, really believable.  And, for some dumbass reason, Gabriel didn’t like it one bit.

What the actual hell?

He was getting a ridiculous crush on a dude he’d known for coming up on twenty-four hours.

Sure, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for Gabriel to think after seeing an attractive individual, “Yeah, I’d totally hit that,” but this was something more.  Like, something more, to the point that he needed to get to the bottom of figuring out whether Ruby and Sam were together.

But they couldn’t be.

Because of that good-night kiss and all the blatant flirting, right?

Because that would make Sam gay.  Or bi.  Or a tease.  Who had a girlfriend.  Who the hell knew what was going on.

Then, as they were finishing up for the day, Gabriel tried to think of the biggest loudmouth in the group who he knew.  Which was, hands down, Meg.  Charlie was a second runner-up, but she was having a love-affair with the toilet and wouldn’t be much for gossip at the current time.

While they were gathering their things together, he sidled up next to her and commented, “That didn’t suck as bad as I thought it would.”

“Oh yeah?”  She snickered and shook her head.  “Because we were feeling like hell or because you’re not a theater-goer?”

“Both.”  He admitted, “So when Anna dances Odette does she get the same starry eyes Ruby gets during the Pas De Deux?”

“Everyone gets starry eyes when they look at Sam,” she faked a ditzy sigh, “But no one quite like Ruby.”

“You don’t.  But I guess that’s part of being the bad guy, huh.  So there’s a thing there?”  He asked in what he hoped was a mischievous voice, rather than a jealous one.

“Is this for the article, or off the record?”  The brunette raised an eyebrow, then dramatically leaned forward.  “Ruby’s always had a crush on him.  We don’t know if unrequited or they’re having a showmance.”

“Showmance?”  Gabriel echoed.

“I’m teaching you all kinds of things today!”  Meg clapped her hands together.  “Yeah.  Usually happens when a couple plays opposite each other in a romantic role and then convince themselves they’re really in love.  Then, when the show closes they realize they’re just fantastic actors and nothing was there.”

“Oh.  Interesting.”  Gabriel said thoughtfully and put his hands on his hips, “Like when movie stars date after playing opposite in a film, get married then get quickie divorces within the month.”

“Exactly.  Happens in the live performing arts too.”

He slung his arm around her and announced, “You are my favorite well of knowledge,” before noticing that Sam and Ruby were still on stage, practicing one of their lifts.  “When is the onset of this disease?”

“After initial exposure?”  Meg looks towards the two, “Eh, couple weeks.  Before tech week, for sure.  Ruby’s caught it, don‘t know about Sam.”

Gabriel didn’t like this one bit.  But he had a plan.  He always did.

“You get Sunday off, don’t you?”  He released the woman so she could begin packing up.    
  
“Yep.  Then Monday night’s back to the grind.  Too bad you didn’t corner us tonight.”

“What would the fun in that be?  You would have known who I was and I wouldn’t have looked like a psycho mugger or something.”

“True.”  Meg laughed as she pulled on her hoodie and sweatpants over her leotard and tights.  “All for the best, then.  I’ll see you Monday night?”

“Yep.  Tomorrow will give me a chance to start outlining the article.  I may text you for more terminology.”  He patted her on the back before she walked away, confirming she’d be there for his questions.

Gabriel lingered and said goodbye to the people he knew personally as they took off, one by one.  He was still waiting for Sam and Ruby to finish this damn lift.  Sam had to be getting tired by now, right?  Maybe Gabriel was just getting too impatient.

It was Crowley who eventually shouted at them, “We’ll work on that Monday!  Let me shut down the bloody theater!”

Which had them both scrambling off the stage and getting their things.

Thankfully, Ruby and Sam had arrived at different times or something, because their belongings were stashed in different rows of the auditorium and Gabriel could slink right on over to the man without prying ears.

“You make up for your clumsiness.”  He affirmed as a way of breaking the ice.

“Gee, thanks,” Sam lightly huffed as he grabbed his jacket, “I hear that about twenty times a day, but it’s always good to hear it twenty _one_ times.”

“I’m not being a dick.  You looked good out there.”  Gabriel smacked him in the shoulder.  “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Slowly and warily, Sam picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.  “Nothing.  Why?”

“Wanna try a second date?  With the promise of no assault?”

“What about battery?”  He countered immediately.

“Nope.  Never in my agenda.”  Gabriel easily confirmed, “Kidnapping, if you refuse, however; may be a consequence.”

“You _do_ know where I live.”  Sam mused with the beginning of a smile on his face.  “So I guess it’d just be easier to say yes, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah.  Save me the trouble of dodging a felony.”  His smirk was growing with every bit quip.

“Okay.”

“Huh.”  Gabriel huffed, tilting his head at Sam.  “That was easier than I thought.”

“Why?”  He blinked in an adorably confused way.

“No reason.  I’ll pop by your skid row apartment around eight.  How does that sound?”

“You’re an ass.”  Sam narrowed his eyes, but still agreed, “Eight sounds good.”

With a wink, Gabriel turned his back and left - not feeling the need to say goodbye to Ruby.  Not because he didn’t want to say goodbye to her, but he was worried if he stuck around any longer he’d end up plastering his face to Sam’s again.  And right now, he was on top of his game.  He couldn’t lose his edge, so a smooth exit was required.

He had an article to outline and a date to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although it's obvious, I'll give the disclaimer: this is completely fictional work and has no ties/relation/digs towards the real NYCB. Crowley's a bad guy, and I'm positive their real AD is a wonderful person. I'm just using the Company's title/name for the fic, and that is all :)


	3. Chapter 3

Sam had never needed an alarm clock - he’d always been a creature of habit when it came to all his schedules.  Every aspect of his life had been carefully constructed of schedules, whether they’d been of his own making or provided by those he’d worked for.  Regardless, mornings had remained the same, because he’d consistently had evening rehearsals or evening jobs.

Every morning, right around seven (give or take five minutes) he’d spring up from bed and make a pot of coffee.  While the caffeine was readying, he would head to the fire escape for his morning cigarette in exchange for breakfast.

While Sam would normally suck in one menthol, it would change depending on how much was on his mind, since he made it a habit not to dwell on anything before bed.  Sleep was one of the most important things for a dancer’s body.  Sleep was when everything you learned during the day moved from your brain and seeped into your muscle memory.

Today, though...he had a lot of things to think about.

All of which revolved around this reporter who _literally_ ‘jete’d into his life.

He leaned on the rungs of the fire escape and mulled over what had happened the last two days.  How his feelings transformed from rage, to annoyance, and then _interest_ at the drop of a hat.  People…didn’t have that effect on him.  Normally, Sam’s first impression stuck with him - for better or for worse.  He was a good judge of character, right off the bat, but that was when it came to normal introductions.

Not actions.

And he’d come to learn Gabriel was _all_ action.

Which made his interest slowly transform into attraction.

Sam was confident enough to admit it.

When Gabriel had kissed him, Sam been caught off guard, yet didn’t hesitate to respond back because he enjoyed the physical closeness of another.  After all, Sam was a physical person.  But saying yes to an actual date was something _completely_ different.

Hell, it was night and day.

Sam hadn’t been on a real, honest to God date in, well…

Fuck.  He couldn’t remember the last time.

Which he should have found pathetic, but he was married to his work.  Rehearsals took priority, and when you finished your job every night at ten o’clock and your only day off was Sunday, there was little room for dating.  It never bothered him.  He wasn’t seeking companionship or a relationship.  He was too busy.

So why did he say yes to Gabriel?

Interest and attraction, Sam had to remind himself.

He’d never met anyone like the reporter, plain and simple.

He wanted to get to know more about him.  He wanted to see what he was like outside his job, because in a way Gabriel was wearing a mask, performing in front of the cast and crew as well.  What would he be like if it was just the two of them?

Sam had actually read the man’s articles before.  The news site he wrote for was huge.  Gabriel’s pieces for In A Nutshell were always shared on his friend's Facebook pages and littered his newsfeed when he actually visited the site.  Of course, Gabriel was hilarious.  Sam should have expected he would be in real life too.  Which was why the dancer was equally confused when Crowley had announced this specific reporter would be covering the ballet.

Why the hell was _Gabriel_ covering the New York City Ballet?  Let alone Swan Lake, which wasn't even their season opener?

Sam planned on asking him why on their ’date’ tonight.

For as many times as Sam embarrassed himself in front of Gabriel, he actually was known for being articulate and direct.  All their encounters had merely managed to catch him off guard, and when he was caught off guard his bad habit of brain synapses not quite reaching his goddamn long limbs, and his nerves, kicked in.  So he'd managed to show off his clumsy side even _more_  lately.  Fantastic.

Sam shook his head and laughed, looking down to see he’d smoked four cigarettes, and decided it was time to head back inside.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and nursed it while he went through his tiny closet, pulling out his running clothes.

His apartment was a fucking box, but rent in New York was astronomically high.  He was lucky he was paid enough to get a studio - most starving artists had to live in other people’s closets just to make it in the city.  If he was with any dance company besides the New York City Ballet, he’d probably be sharing an attic with a leaking roof, body-to-body with three strangers.  So he couldn’t complain.

More than once, Ruby had asked him about splitting rent on a two or one (stressing the one) bedroom, because with both their incomes combined, they could probably afford it.  But Sam liked his solitude, and he didn’t want things with Ruby to get sticky.  Sure, they hooked up every once in awhile, but he had a feeling if they moved in together, if only because it was financially smart, she’d want more.

And Sam didn’t.

He wouldn’t give up his box of an apartment or his freedom.

Once he’d drained two cups of coffee and brushed his teeth, he changed into his workout clothes and filled up his water bottle.

The Company provided a gym membership to all the dancers - one that was a chain - and the closest one to Sam happened to be a little under five miles away.  Which was perfect.  He could get his cardio on the way over, do weights and strength training once he arrived, and a cool-down jog on the way home.  After he arrived home, he’d be sure to do all his stretches and if he felt up to it, his yoga regimen.

He took his physical training very seriously, not just because of the Company, but because he had all his life.  It was something that kept him focused and grounded.

Today, it rained on the jog back and put a chill into his bones because autumn was almost ready to give way to winter.  As soon as he got into his apartment, he stripped himself of his sopping clothes in the entryway and headed right for the shower, forgoing his stretches in exchange for the hot water to bring life back into his frozen skin.

He had to make it fast though, because the old building only gave him about seven minutes (on the dot) of hot water before it went from lukewarm to freezing.  The pipes were old, nothing had been renovated since the damn thing was probably built, but Sam wasn’t high maintenance.  All he had in the summer was a fan he purchased at Walmart because central air didn’t exist, but he optimistically thought about it as ‘sweating out all his toxins.’  He depended on his space heater and mountains of blankets in the winter, because the heating was shoddy, at best.

But he was living his dream, so he didn’t care.

He mixed up his lunch - a protein shake specifically designed for a post-workout meal, and hopped on his computer.

The only good thing about the entire friggin apartment was the free WiFi.

Irony, at its finest.

It helped keep his phone bill down too, since he could sign up for the lowest data plan and link up with his building’s WiFi all day.  It wasn’t like he touched it at rehearsal.  Hell, sometimes he just left it at home.

Speaking of phone, when he glanced at it he noticed he had a text message from Gabriel.

 _Gabriel_  
12:02PM  
_wanna be spontaneous and move up our date???_

Sam looked at the message with confusion and sat down on his couch to text him back.

 _Sam_  
12:15PM  
_Why not.  How early?_

 _Gabriel_  
12:17PM  
_ill pick you up at two_

Immediately followed by:

 _Gabriel_  
12:17PM  
_u got something pretty to wear?_

With a snort, Sam replied:

 _Sam_  
12:19PM  
_I’m afraid my last ball gown turned into a pumpkin at midnight last night.  But I do have a suit.  Why?_

Now, he was confused.  What the hell was he supposed to be dressed up for at two in the afternoon?  He didn’t like surprises.  Which was why he didn’t like Gabriel’s response.

 _Gabriel_  
12:21PM  
_perfection!  Ill c u then <3 _

Sam glared at his phone, waiting for the answer to ‘why’ but it never came.  Godammit.  Well, he had an hour to get ready, and he assumed if he needed to be wearing a suit, he needed to shave.  Hell, he needed to head back to his closet, he realized, standing up.

The last time he wore the suit was after opening night at the last NYCB event and he hoped it didn’t smell like sweat from after the performance.  He tugged it out from behind all his normal clothing and gave it a good sniff before laying it on the bed, thankful it was in good condition.

Now, his curiosity was growing by the second and he hoped he wasn’t nose blind.

Well, there was cologne for that.  Shit.  He could do this.  He _would_ do this.

Sam headed to the bathroom to get ready, seeing as how he only had an hour notice and some kind of borderline formal event to get to.  What the fuck.

\----------

When two came around, Sam was finally prepared physically and (barely) mentally as his phone began ringing.  He already knew it was Gabriel, so he answered:

“About to head down.  Do I need to bring anything?”

“Just your cute self,” was his cheeky answer.

Sam shook his head and laughed, repeating, “Be right there, then,” while stuffing his wallet in his pocket and hanging up his phone, which he slid inside his suit jacket.

Before he locked up, he looked through his selection of coats hanging by the door.  This happened to be the only thing he hadn’t planned ahead on.  The only one that was remotely ‘nice’ was a black peacoat that wasn’t frayed at the edges like all his other ones.  So he pulled it on and hoped it didn’t look too out of place with his navy suit.  He headed down the stairs and when he walked out onto the street, caught sight of Gabriel standing in front of a nice black, SUV-type cab.

He whistled at Sam, which made him flash Gabriel his middle finger, while the reporter opened the door for him.  With a roll of his eyes he hopped in and Gabriel quickly followed, shutting the door behind him.

“Looking sharp, Sammy.”  He clucked his tongue, giving him another obvious once-over, behind handing him a drink and asking, “Jameson, right?”

“Uh,” Sam accepted the glass but cautiously asked, “Is this legal?”

“Why not?  Our driver doesn’t care, I already asked him.  ‘Sides, the company’s paying him well, right, Drew?”  Gabriel pitched his voice forward through the Plexiglas divider.

“You got it, Gabe.  Just let me know if I’ve gotta raise the partition or something.”  He said with chipper enthusiasm.

“Nah, no afternoon delights.”  Then, he wiggled his eyebrows, “I mean, _unless_ -”

“Shut up,” Sam’s voice was fond as he took the shot glass, and Gabriel filled him back up.  “So can you tell me where we’re going yet?”

“Richard Rodgers Theater.”  Gabriel finally answers with a smirk, grabbing his own drink, “Something tells me you don’t get the chance to see Broadway shows too much.”

“Are you serious?”  His eyes lit up, “Isn’t Hamilton playing right now?”

“Nailed it!  And I happened to get us house seats.”  He hadn’t meant it to be a brag about his connections and getting the best seats in the theater, but it was something special for Sam and he could see the excitement in his eyes.  “It’s one of the only shows I wanna see, and I heard the choreography is pretty good too.”

“Shit,” there was a smile that couldn’t be wiped off, as he took another shot, “This is great!  Thanks, Gabriel!”

“Might wanna slow down on those, kiddo.  Show starts at three, but the theater’s a hot sec away, and I wanted to account for traffic.  But this does warrant a cheers, yeah?”

He nodded his head profusely, “Hell yeah, it does,” Sam raised his glass, “I’m glad you moved up our date.”

“Don’t think you’ll be sick of me?  ‘Cause I do have dinner planned, too, ya know.”  He raised his glass to meet Sam's.

“Well, we can cheers to me not getting sick of you, then.”

Gabriel threw his head backwards with a laugh.  “You’re a sassy bitch,” they clinked their glasses together and tossed their drinks back.  “This will be fun.”

\--------------

Sam tried his best to pace himself from the drinks in the car and at intermission.  But then when they went to the swanky restaurant afterwards, where Gabriel had initially set up their 8 o’clock reservation, that’s when he decided he didn’t have to hold back anymore.  It wasn’t like he was loose-lipped as they ate and freely drank, it was more like he could finally be himself.

“So I guess being a famous reporter leads to a life of luxury, huh?”  He grinned mischievously over his meal.

“I do alright, I guess.”  Gabriel shrugged and chuckled.  “I know how to play the game.  Get the company to cover some expenses, call in favors from friends, know when to save and when to splurge.  I’m not rolling in money, I know how to make the most out of it.”

“So what are we doing right now?  How did you make the most out of today?”

“Company took care of the mileage, friend got me the tickets, dinner and any after party is on me.”  He responded with a wink.

“Nice multitasking.”  Sam hummed his praise.

“Glad you agreed?”

“So far so good.”  

“How do we make it great?”  Gabriel had a pleasant buzz going and was not above flirting - not for a second.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

Apparently, Sam wasn’t either.  Especially with the way he was staring at Gabriel.

“So tell me more about you.”  The reporter decided to take this in a different direction, as their table was bused free of the empty plates and they ordered another round of drinks.  “How long have you been with the company?”

“Is this stuff for your article?”  Sam asked in a very even tone.

“Just making conversation.  Thought it’d be something you’d like to talk about.”  Gabriel guessed, trying to read Sam’s body language since his voice wasn’t giving anything away.

“We can talk about work at work.  This is my day off, remember?”

“My bad.”  Yep, Gabriel figured out this was a no-go.  “What do you want to talk about?”

“Why did they send _you_ to write an article about us?”  Sam finally asked the question that was on his mind that he’d decided to do earlier that day.

“What happened to not talking about work?”  Gabriel countered.

“Touché.”  Sam shook his head feeling a bit disappointed and took a sip of his drink.  “What do you want to talk about?”

“How hot you look tonight.  We could talk about that.  Or why you decided to give me a chance.  I know, I’m dashing and handsome but I didn’t make the best of impressions,” he commented offhandedly, then tilted his head, studying the dancer. “What made you say yes?”

“I didn’t have a reason to say no,” he flashed a grin.  “And you’re fun.  Everyone I’m around is way too serious or snarky.  No one is genuine, and I wanted to see if that was some kind of bullshit mask you wore around the group or if it was real.”

“What did you figure out?”

“That it was real.  You’re you.  And I’ve never met anyone like you.”  Sam finished rest of his drink.  “That’s hard to find in New York.  Everyone’s got their own agenda.  The world moves fast.  They’re only in it for themselves.  It’s refreshing to meet someone who, I don’t know, _cares_.”

“Huh.”  Now it was Gabriel who was studying Sam closer.  “Thanks.  I think that’s what I’m supposed to say.”

With a snort, Sam was surprised when the waitress automatically brought another drink and set it in front of him.  He didn’t ask for another, but he’d accept it.  After all, rehearsal wasn’t until late tomorrow night and he’d have the day to sleep away any hangover.

It was almost like Gabriel was a mind reader when he stated with an impish grin, “I told the wait staff ‘open bar’ applied to our table.”

“Trying to get me drunk?”

“Trying to get to know you better.  And, yes, if that’s drunk, so be it.”  He rested his chin on his palm and nodded to the glass, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.  I’m not here to peer pressure you.  I just know, from round one, that you’re a giant who can hold your liquor.”

With a laugh, Sam’s hand wrapped around the drink with a shrug, “You’re right on that one.  So... Twenty questions?”

“Any rules?”  Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows.

With a challenge, Sam countered with, “What’s the fun in that?”

\------------------

While they didn’t stay at the place until close, it was pretty damn close.  Twenty questions had opened up a whole slew of new information about both of them, and Gabriel couldn’t have been happier.  None of it involved his article, it was all pertaining to Sam as a person, and he felt he actually truly knew the man.

Which was exactly what he’d hoped to get out of tonight.

He made sure to get a reservation somewhere that was within walking distance so he could spend as much time with the dancer as possible before seeing him off.  Not to mention, he wanted to make sure he got home safely.

Throughout the night, Sam had begun to meet Gabriel’s blatant flirting with his own and it turned into an exciting game.  Needless to say, Gabriel was looking forward to another goodnight kiss.  Hell, when they were walking, he’d grabbed the dancer’s hand and Sam had eagerly accepted.  Sam even went the extra mile to intertwine their fingers.

They were both stumbling and laughing when Gabriel said, “So was the monkey suit worth it?”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Sam hip-checked him but then pulled him back by their linked hands.  “That doesn’t mean I’m not ready to take it off.”

“Oh, the images that gives me.”  Gabriel’s filter was gone as they arrived in front of Sam’s apartment.  “You tease.”

But Sam didn’t stop.

Which confused Gabriel.

“Hey, drunkie, we’re here.”  The reporter commented, but he was met with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought your apartment was this way?”  Sam’s voice was confident and almost cocky, “This was the way you headed last time I saw you.”

“Wait, _what_?”

“I’m not a tease.”  Sam yanked him close, just beyond his apartment building and dipped down to lick the shell of Gabriel’s ear, then whispered, “You don’t want to take me home with you?”

It sent a shiver down Gabriel’s spine and, for the first time in a long time, he was damn near speechless.

“C’mon, I told you I’m ready to get out of this suit.”  Sam was brazen as he leaned forward and captured Gabriel’s lips in a hot kiss, then pulled away enough to dare him, “It’s up to you who undresses me tonight.”

“Goddamn.”  Gabriel growled from deep in his chest, cock already hardening in his pants, “Let’s go, right the fuck now.”

There was a wicked smirk on Sam’s face as Gabriel yanked his hand and they nearly jogged the remaining three blocks to the loft.


	4. Chapter 4

Gabriel had _not_ expected Sam to be so forward about going home with him.

From the moment he met him, to the chaste kiss outside his apartment, to asking him out on the date Gabriel honestly thought _himself_ to be the one in charge.  The instigator.  The one who was more confident and moving whatever they had going on between them along.

However, as soon as they took the elevator up and they were inside his loft apartment, Gabriel realized he had been dead fucking wrong.

He didn’t know if Sam’s innocence had been a way to get to know people or if it had been an act altogether.

But the dancer was currently ripping off his jacket and shoes in the doorway while demanding, “Where’s your bedroom?”

Gabriel was kind of stunned, so he did what he did best.  He tried to joke, “So you didn’t want to come up for coffee?”

Sam grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him close, staring at him with hungry eyes and actually laughed.  “As long as coffee means you fucking me, then sure.”

He nipped at Gabriel’s bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth and undressing the other man in his stupor.  Gabriel gave into the hot mouth and hauled him in closer, the fact this was happening _finally_ fucking computing in his brain.  He licked into Sam’s mouth with as much aggression as the man was showing him, while his hands ripped the shirt out of Sam’s pants - and he went to work unbuttoning it.

Jesus, he’d seen the dancer wearing tight clothing before, what would that muscled body look like without anything covering it?

They needed to get this moving.

Gabriel also needed to gain some semblance of control over this situation.

So he grabbed a handful of Sam’s hair and nipped his neck, whispering, “Follow me.”

The loft was an open-spaced layout, and they needed to climb a set of stairs to get to where Gabriel’s bed was.  And dammit if this chase wasn’t exhilarating.  Sam was hot on his heels - the only illumination cascading into the loft being the bright lights of New York City.  However, once they hit a hallway and turned a corner it dimmed further.

Which gave Gabriel the element of surprise to knock a practically blind Sam down onto his bed.

The dancer rolled once before Gabriel was on top of him, finishing the unbuttoning of the stiff cotton shirt.  Once the top button was released, Sam sat up enough to throw it away from them, and pulled off his undershirt immediately.  He grabbed at Gabriel, but the man was one step ahead of him, fingers working quickly to get himself undressed.  So Sam decided to tear away both their belts.

It was like everything was set on fast-forward and it was making Gabriel’s head spin.  Before anyone could go for the trousers, he pitched forward and captured Sam’s lips, while grinding their erections together.

A breathless moan filled the air as Sam kissed him back, rocking his hips upward and pawing at their pants.  “C’mon, what are you waiting for?”

“Is it wrong for me to want to kiss you?”  Gabriel teased as he tugged on Sam’s hair again, exposing his neck and scraping his teeth along the expanse.

While he shivered, he still managed to hiss out, “Once you’re inside me?  You can do whatever you want.”

“Goddamn-” Gabriel huffed, “You tricked me good,” he admitted, moving down the dancer’s body until he was hovering over his crotch.

“Tricked you?”  Sam echoed with an upward thrust.  “How so?”

“Thought you were all cute and innocent.”  He traced his finger along the outline of Sam's thick erection.  “You fooled me.”

With a whimper and a swivel of his hips, Sam didn’t respond with words, but reached down and unbuttoned his pants because he was sick and tired of waiting.  

The moment he did so, Gabriel grabbed his wrists and pinned them to his sides with a, “No.  You’re going to behave.  And take it how I give it to you.”

He could have sworn he heard a snarl, but now he’d figured out that Sam was desperate.  Which gave Gabriel the upper hand.  It wasn’t as though he was planning on teasing him and drawing it out, he wanted to level the playing field because he’d been so damn flabbergasted when this side of Sam showed itself.  Gabriel didn’t like being caught off guard, he didn’t like it one bit.  So now was the part where he needed to get one up on Sam, the goddamn sneak.

While unzipping Sam’s pants, he noticed the dancer’s hands were fisted at his sides and he was attempting to follow the set rules.  Which Gabriel thought deserved a reward.  So he pulled off both the dress pants as well as his boxers, socks left somewhere in the entryway, and finally had his gorgeous man right where he wanted him.  Naked, exposed, and hard as a rock.

Gabriel raked his fingers down his muscled thighs and took a moment to feel him, take in this vision of Sam being desperate and needy below him, since this might be one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen in his lifetime.  And now he was hyper aware of the fact his own cock was about to bust through the zipper at any moment.

“Nightstand drawer,” Gabriel ordered and as he did so, noticed his voice was fucking _wrecked_ with lust.  “Lube and a condom.”

Sam moved quickly to grab it, but Gabriel moved quicker to get out of the rest of his clothes and breathed a sigh of relief when he was free.  He saw Sam toss the items right next to him and spread his legs instantly.

Deep down, Gabriel was terrified he wasn’t going to be able to keep up.

But he sure as fuck was going to try.

He grabbed the lube and coated his fingers with it, then settled himself between Sam’s knees.  He didn’t want to have any awkward conversations like "is this new to you?" or "should I go slow?" because he had a feeling Sam wouldn’t hesitate to bite his head off.  Hell, one of his heels was already digging into Gabriel’s back telling him to get on with it.

There was one thing Gabriel needed to do first, though.

And that was wrap his mouth around Sam’s pre-cum leaking cock.

The dancer moaned out as Gabriel sucked the head into his mouth, and then swallowed him down.  He clearly hadn’t been expecting it, because now he was bucking into the warmth that was Gabriel’s mouth and making the most amazing noises.

It was music to his ears, and Gabriel didn’t want to stop, but he knew he had something else to do.  So at the same time, he circled a lube-slicked finger around Sam’s hole, which easily slipped in.  That dispelled any worry about his initial "is this new to you" question.  Hell, even finger number two was almost as easy.  Sam was swiveling his hips on Gabriel’s fingers while he made sure three wouldn’t hurt, scissoring them inside the heat.

Even though Gabriel had an inkling a third finger wouldn’t be that big of a deal, he still went slow.  He didn’t want to hurt Sam, and it turned out he was right to.  There was more resistance pushing in the digit, but the way Sam’s body moved demanded it.  Hell, Sam was demanding _everything_ right now, he was a needy mess and Gabriel knew it was time to stop sucking his dick as a distraction.

Although he whined, it quickly turned into an ordered, “Hurry up-”

To which Gabriel snipped, “I don’t mean to brag, but I’m not fucking you until I prep you with one more finger, kid,” while working the three in and out of him.

“Oh yeah?”  Sam’s attitude completely turned around and now it was filled with lustful interest.  “Let me feel you.”

Gabriel didn’t know whether to roll his eyes at Sam’s ridiculous horniness, or get more turned on by the attention.  Before he could say anything, Sam had sat up, his legs still spread perfectly and wrapped his hand around Gabriel‘s cock.

Completely taken off guard, Gabriel moaned as Sam’s hand pumped his shaft a few times.

Sam’s voice turned hungry again, as he whispered into Gabriel’s ear, “Fuck _yes_ ,” and he fell back on the bed, “C’mon, can’t wait for you to split me open with that huge cock.”

He had to shake off the shivers of Sam’s touch and his words, because now that’s all he wanted to do.  Gabriel slid in a fourth finger that had Sam strangely silent, but he’d agreed the only way Gabriel was going to fuck him was if he was prepared.  He hoped he wasn’t hurting him, he was moving slowly, sliding his fingers in and out to get him ready, even though all he wanted was-

“Oh, fuck, right there-” Sam’s entire back arched off the bed when Gabriel brushed his prostate.

All the muscles of his body flexing and contracting, _Jesus_ , Gabriel was practically salivating as he watched - and he _needed_ to see it again.  

He nailed his sweet spot for a second time, which had Sam moaning and reaching for him, demanding, “No more teasing, need you in me-” and it wasn’t just his voice.

His eyes were narrowed and alight with want, his entire being was driven by this _force_ Gabriel had never seen before and it was then that Sam actually shoved him away.  Sam was the one to grab the condom and tear it open with his teeth before unrolling it down Gabriel’s throbbing cock.  There was a smirk on his face when he met Gabriel’s eyes and coated him with lube, as if he was throwing down the gauntlet.

And it was that expression that fanned the fire inside Gabriel’s gut anew.

He tackled Sam to the bed and nipped at his shoulder hard enough to draw blood, while he moved the head of his cock to Sam’s needy hole.  He kept egging Gabriel on, grabbing his hips, sucking on his earlobe, taunting, “You gonna fuck me ‘til I can’t feel my legs or not?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you-” Gabriel snapped back, as he started pushing his dick inside Sam’s ass.

He wouldn’t let the younger man mock him into slamming in.  He knew he’d hurt him - and that’s the last thing he wanted to do.  Yeah, once he was ready he was going to fuck the hell out of him, but not _until_ he was ready.

The tight grip around his cock was unbelievable, as was the long moan pulled from Sam’s throat as he slid in.  By the time he bottomed out, Sam’s arms and legs were wrapped around him like a goddamn octopus and he was trying to catch his breath.  

While he did so, he looked at Gabriel with a half-smirk and asked, “Where have you been all my life?” while he grabbed his ass.

Gabriel didn’t even have a witty rejoinder because he was so distracted by how Sam felt, but knowing the kid had time to be a smartass?  Meant he was ready for Gabriel to actually move.

When he pulled out and thrust back in the first time, Sam’s breath caught in his lungs - but he nodded, telling him to keep going.  By the fourth time, their bodies had already found a rhythm and were rocking together in unison, Sam hiking one of his legs over Gabriel’s shoulders and demanding of him, “ _Deeper_ -”

Gabriel kept pounding into him with a tenacity that resembled a fight, more than any kind of love making.  Not like they were making love in the first place.  But this was something fierce, something primal and amazing in its own way.

He could feel marks being left all over his flesh, and Gabriel knew he’d left a few of his own.  But he couldn’t help it - Sam just brought something out of him.  This side of Sam, at least.

God, everything up until now had been a blur, and he was so close-

But then something he couldn’t have seen coming happened.

Sam had his arms wrapped tightly around Gabriel’s back, trying to get him as deep inside as he could with each thrust.  The leg Sam had hooked over Gabriel’s shoulder extended - Sam took advantage of both his own weight, gravity and the locked position he had Gabriel in, to tip them both over so Sam was on top and rearranging himself to ride Gabriel.  In a fucking full split.

The noise Gabriel made was halfway between a gasp and a moan, but regardless Sam was riding him, was grinding on him in a ridiculously hot show of his flexibility.  And if the dancer was going for deep?  This, right here, was _deep_.

Hell, while Sam was rocking and fucking himself on Gabriel’s cock he _still_ pitched over and decided to kiss the hell out of him.

This took things to another level.

Gabriel had his hands in Sam’s hair, his tongue in Sam's mouth and he couldn’t stop moaning because he was blowing his load inside the dancer barely seconds later.

Sam whimpered and his breaths became more desperate, quickly following and covering Gabriel’s stomach and chest in his cum.

The kissing didn’t stop, not right away, at first.  While Sam folded himself back up, he kept kissing Gabriel and lifted himself off his softening dick.  He couldn’t help running his hands through Sam’s hair and wondering if he just had an out of body experience.  Because that was the most likely explanation for whatever the fuck just happened.

Sam was the first to speak, as he pulled away and sighed, “That was awesome.”

“Yer just saying that because you love my cock.”  Gabriel teased, kissing the tip of his nose.

“That’s only half of it.”  Sam chuckled and then asked, “Do you have anything to clean up with?”

“On it, princess.”

Sam seemed hesitant to roll away from him, but he knew they both didn’t want to fall asleep covered in cum.  Gabriel tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash when he got to the bathroom.  He made sure the water was nice and warm for the wash cloths before he brought them back to the bedroom.  Thankfully, the mess was contained to their bodies and the bed’s damage had amounted to sweat, which wasn’t a big deal at all.

When they went to lay down, Sam ended up pillowed on Gabriel’s chest but neither of them could fall asleep.  Gabriel couldn’t keep his hands from carding through Sam’s hair and Sam couldn’t contain the happy sighs.

“You sure as hell surprised me,” Gabriel chuckled out again, shaking his head.  “Now you’re back to the sweet boy next door.  Where did that come from?”

With a small shrug, he said, “I don’t know.  I’m a physical person.  Maybe it comes with being a dancer.  So sex is a physical thing.”

“Is that an all dancers kind of deal?”  Gabriel asked curiously.

“Lots of ‘em, I think.  Well, the majority of the ones I know, at least.  I don’t think anyone’s done a study, if that’s what you’re asking.”  He laughed and kissed Gabriel’s collarbone.  “And it’s not like I’ll go out looking for one night stands or fuck anyone I meet.  But if there’s someone I’m attracted to or like, why not?”

“That’s good news.”  Then, Gabriel couldn’t help but ask, “If you’re all physical, does that mean you hook up with each other?”

“Not usually.  That makes rehearsals and performances weird.  It’d be like an office romance, you know,” Sam said matter-of-factly.  

“That makes sense.  Meg was telling me about 'showmances' and how Ruby may be in love with you, but I was thinking that would put a strain on things.”  Gabriel internally sighed in relief.

“Oh, I’ve hooked up with Ruby a couple of times.”  The dancer was candid as candid could be.  “And that’s when I realized it was a terrible idea.  Because she still tries to hook up.  She’s tried to convince me we can have a fuck-buddy relationship and split rent on a nicer apartment.  But anyone with a brain would know that’s just playing with fire.”

That was something Gabriel did not want to hear.  In fact, he felt the sting of jealousy like a hard lash to his back, which was stupid.  It wasn’t like the two of them were dating.  Hell, he’d only known Sam for three days.  Why was he getting worked up about this?

“Yeah, that’s just asking for trouble.  Looks like you made an impression on her, though.”  He poked Sam in the cheek.  “Your dick got you in trouble.”

With a hearty laugh and a shake of his head, Sam replied, “Hey, don’t talk trash.  Sex is part of human nature.  And sometimes it just…happens.”

“Did we just happen?”

“What else would it be?”  Sam inquired with a raised eyebrow.  “We had a great date.  And then an even better night.  I like spending time with you.  I consider us ‘happening.’  What else is there?”

“Touché.”

“I’m dreading tomorrow,”  Sam admitted, chewing his lip, and for a split second Gabriel felt really nervous.  “I’m just glad you’ll be there.”

He felt the tension release from his body, because for a moment, he thought maybe Sam was dreading tomorrow because of what _they_ did _tonight_.  Because Sam thought it would be weird to see him through the rest of the article’s process.  But, nope, dodged a bullet, there.

“Why?  What’s tomorrow?”

“New weeks equal Crowley kicking it up a notch in intensity.”  He sighed and then paused for a beat.  “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah, love to.”

“I never really wanted to be in the ballet.”  Sam gushed in what sounded like a single word.  “I wanted to be a modern dancer.  In school, I even loved the originals.  Martha Graham, Merce Cunningham, Limon, seeing DVDs of Alvin Ailey, learning about Doris Humphrey.  All of those stories about stepping _away_ from ballet was what inspired me.  All I wanted was to dance in a Modern or a Contemporary Company.”

Gabriel really didn’t want to state the obvious, but he ended up hesitantly asking, “Um.  Then why don’t you?  I’ve seen you, Sam.  You’re fucking awesome.  Bar _none_.  You could get into any of those, easy.  Why do ballet when you’ve got the skills to do anything?”

With a huff and a shake of his head, Sam’s voice took on a defeated tone.  “It’s not that easy.  I can do ballet because men are always soloists, or part of a pas de deux.  In modern, sure, you can get a feature, but you’re going to be dancing in an ensemble too.  No matter how unfair it is, dancers have to fit a certain mold and body type.  Me?  And my height?  I’d stick out like a goddamn sore thumb.  I’d _never_ blend into the ensemble.  I would ruin the aesthetics of the piece, of the choreography, because everyone would be pointing at the giant.  To be honest?  I was lucky to be cast in the ballets.”

“That’s _bullshit_.  Have you ever-”

“Auditioned?  Of fucking course.  And it’s the same story.  Modern Companies aren’t going to cast a dancer for a few features.  They need a spot filled by someone who can do it all.  And that’s not me.  Same way the ballet isn’t going to hire a plus sized ballerina, no matter how amazing her technique.”  Sam sighed, “Sure, they may be some small, obscure companies out there, but they aren’t going to pay what I need to live in New York.  I want to perform, I want to dance and not stress out about two part time jobs and making sure I can pay rent.  It’s a hard line to walk, but I’ll do what I have to.”

For some reason, Gabriel had to hold Sam closer, because this infuriated him in a way it had no business doing.  The man in his arms was the most talented performer he’d ever seen, and because of his height he was being denied his dream?  It was fucking unfair, but that was just how the world worked, wasn’t it?

He had to turn this around.

“If Crowley starts being a super-douche tomorrow, I’ll cause some kind of scene that’ll take the attention off you guys, how does that sound?”  Gabriel asked with mischief in his voice.

“That sounds perfect.”  Sam looked up at him with a smile.  “Seriously, today was awesome.  Thank you.”

Gabriel didn’t want to sound cheesy, but he could get lost in those eyes.

So, instead, he said, “No problemo.  You deserved a break.  Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

Their lips met in a tender way before Sam settled back against his chest and closed his eyes, “Good night, Gabriel.”

“Sweet dreams, kid.”

Gabriel couldn’t help but press one more kiss to his forehead before he himself fell off into dream world.

\--------------------

When Gabriel’s alarm went off, he moved as quickly and fluidly as he could so as to not wake Sam.

But when he did so - he realized one very important thing.

Sam…wasn’t here.

But the bizarre thing was that his alarm?

Was set for six in the morning.

When the hell did the man leave?  Had he left right after Gabriel had fallen asleep?

Had Gabriel, for the first time in his life, been the one who’d been ditched after sex?

He sat there for a while, frowning at the thought.

Gabriel had assumed they were comfortable, that Sam had felt comfortable with him.  He’d thought they’d fallen asleep tangled up in each other’s arms, but what if Sam had only been waiting for Gabriel to fall asleep to take off?  Was that why he was being all cute and curled up on top of him, to make for an easy escape?  Had _Gabriel_ been used for sex?

There were so many questions in his head, and even more concerning was the fact that he was going to be seeing Sam consistently for the next few weeks.  Was he going to pretend none of this happened?

Now, Gabriel was wondering what the hell kind of person Sam Winchester really was.

They had cuddled.  There had been pillow talk and Sam had given away parts of himself you wouldn’t tell a stranger you intended to blow off.  All of this was so strange.

And now, Gabriel needed to build up some kind of game face before tonight.

But until then, he needed to check in with Abby and get the ball rolling on this damn article.

If only he didn’t have so many stupid questions currently itching inside his brain.  Fucking hell.


	5. Chapter 5

For the amount of things on Gabriel’s mind, he got a surprising amount of shit done.  Call it avoidance, call it whatever you like.  He had a few sections finished, a few punchlines nailed, he had his outline and a few key points were coming together.  

He was very specifically doing this in his _office_ at the company headquarters.

Sometimes (most of the time), he’d lay in bed to plot things out, but his bed reminded him of Sam.

Who he did not need to be thinking about right now.

His second reminder alarm of the day went off, and when he glanced at his phone, he also noticed there wasn’t a single text from the man either.  Which kind of pissed him off.  Whatever.

This specific alarm told him to head home, hop his ass in the shower and begin collecting his materials to head to the rehearsal which started at five.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up - but maybe seeing Sam would hold some of the answers he’d been seeking.

\-----------------

The previous night, the dancer hadn’t been joking when he’d told Gabriel the atmosphere was about to change as the weeks wore on.  Sure, Mondays were dreaded by most people with 9-5’s, but those with 5-10’s had it even rougher.

When Gabriel arrived, all the dancers were already onstage, stretching and warming up.  That was when Crowley appeared behind him and commented, “Hopefully you’ll be able to see their full potential, rather than that bullshit they were pulling on Saturday.”

He nearly made Gabriel jump, seemingly having appeared out of thin air.

“So what’s on the docket, Mr. AD?”  Gabriel tried for casual conversation as they walked side by side down the aisle and towards the stage.

“Run through.  From the top.  Whenever there’s a blunder, we’ll stop and beat it ‘til it’s a dead horse and then they’ll never make a mistake, there, again.”  His voice was loud enough for the dancers onstage to hear, who began standing up, one by one.  “Is everyone ready?”

The dancers nodded, followed by Crowley’s order to, “Take off your warm up!” and they hopped off the stage to pull off their sweats, and the women to lace up their pointe shoes.

It was at that time Gabriel tried to make eye contact with Sam, but the man hadn’t left the stage - opting to toss his hoodie into the theater seats and ready himself for his opening in the wings.  Which, while Gabriel understood, since he began the show, it still irritated him.

“You look grumpy.”  Meg’s voice caught him off guard, but he turned to see her doing a few releves, breaking in her new pointe shoes.  “Have a bad day off?”

So Sam hadn’t told anyone.  Interesting.

“Nah, it was fine.”  He shrugged his shoulders, “What about you?”

“The norm, we can chat more when I get off stage.”  She winked and went to turn before Gabriel stopped her.

“I thought you were Odile?”

“Odile isn’t until Act Three.  I dance as a peasant in the opening waltz so the swan ensemble doesn’t need to worry about any quick changes.”  She laughed and shook her head, “We multitask around here, babe.  It’ll make more sense when we head into the dress rehearsals.  Those are the most fun, gotta love a tutu.”

“ _Everyone_ loves a tutu.  Even got a shirt that says it.  Get your ass on stage.”  Gabriel chuckled and watched Meg as she deliberately swung her hips upon her exit.

Now that he was out a companion, he decided to head a few rows back and actually watch the show in its entirety, rather than gawking at Sam.  He took notes, and one of the things he actually did notice was the fact that everyone he had gotten drunk that initial night _was_ dancing eons better than their first performance.  That was something Gabriel hadn’t realized was even _possible_.

His damn eyes keep sticking to Sam.  Even though he made a mental note _not_ to, godammit.

It wasn’t only because of his dancing, but because of last night.

Because he was thinking about the way that perfect body (currently battement glisse’ing its way across the stage) was writhing underneath his, less than twenty-four hours ago.  How it was it was Gabriel’s cock inside Sam’s tight ass that had made him sweat, not the tour en l’air.

The more he watched Sam, the more Gabriel was getting caught up in the memories, and he cursed himself because his pants were growing tighter.  He looked down to his notebook and started writing things at random.

Plot things.  Character things.  Crowley-being-a-douchebag things.

And, fuck, when Ruby came on stage, he found himself all kinds of jealous.

Luckily, her appearance had _completely_ killed his boner and that was right around the time Meg decided to come back and sit with him since she didn’t have anything to do until Act Three.  Apparently, since Anna and Charlie were understudies through the first run - they danced with the ensemble when they weren’t dancing as Odette and Odile.  It was interesting, this friendship he’d randomly forged with Meg, but it made sense.  She was all the right forms of interesting, bitchy and helpful.

“She’s trying extra hard today,” Meg whispered into Gabriel’s ear.

“Because of how hungover she was last time?”  He guessed with a snort.

“No, with _Sam_.”  Meg said mischievously, an impish grin taking over her expression, “Word on the street is she saw some kind of hickey on him and that hurt her little yearning heart.  So she’s working double-time.”

“Kinda desperate, don’t ya think?”  Gabriel matched her tone with a light chuckle.

“Especially with that kind of evidence,” she confirmed with a nod.  “It’s sad.  I mean, sure, if Ruby flings herself naked at him, he’s not gonna say no, but c’mon, have some class.  And that’s coming from _me_ , who wrote the book on one night stands.”

“Naked Ruby, comin’ in hot.”  Gabriel mused, through clenched teeth.  “There’s an image.”

“A totally nude Pas de Deux.  We can pretend we’re in Paris,” Meg sighed dreamily and laid her head on Gabriel’s shoulder. “There’s a fine piece of ass I’d love to see strutting around the stage, minus clothes.  Pure man muscle.”

“All you girls thirsty ‘round here?”  He tried to keep the banter light as he laid his head on top of Meg’s and tsk’d her.

“Not every day a straight male dancer graces us with his presence, Gabriel,” she challenged right back.  “But he’s not my type.  Still wouldn’t mind checking out that booty, though.”

“Heh,” was the only response Gabriel could come up with, because these were all… brand spankin' new facts.

Apparently, the Company believed Sam was straight.  Ruby thought she was fighting for his attention with another _woman_.  And here Gabriel was.  Chatting it up with Meg who had just dropped bomb after bomb and it was confusing the fuck out of him in ways he couldn’t imagine.

And, of course, it was _their_ dance that Crowley decided needed work and he wished to "beat into the ground."  Meg groaned, said she was heading out back for a smoke, and Gabriel was left alone with his thoughts and his notebook.

With the pen hovering over the page, he had menacing little thoughts he would have loved to write down, like ‘while leads are magnificent dancers as individuals, together they lack the chemistry to pull off their duets’ which was _obviously_ false, but if he were petty enough he may just add in.  He wouldn’t do it.  That’s not how his articles were written, anyway, and he had to remember he was still in limbo.

He kept glancing down to his watch, and soon (if everything stayed according to schedule) he noticed the rehearsal would be over in five minutes.  Gabriel slowly began gathering his things the second Crowley shouted he was done with them for the night.  This was the first breath of relief Gabriel had actually felt.

His cellphone was jammed in his pocket, he was standing up to shimmy around the random bullshit he’d brought with him and finally he was pulling on his coat.  Maybe tomorrow he’d bring his laptop and actually get some writing done so he wasn’t glaring at the performance the entire time.  Yeah.  That sounded like a good idea.

He could hear the chatter behind him and he decided to take the exit where he’d met Crowley, rather than the stage door the dancers used.

Or he _would_ have.

If he didn’t feel a hand gripping his shoulder and spinning him around.

He was confused by the amount of strength, fully expecting to see Meg with some kind of sarcastic send-off, but seeing, in her place, Sam.

Nope.  Wasn’t expecting this at all.

So Gabriel tried to play it cool and say, “Hey, ya dance even better when you’re not totally hungover.  Good show, kid.”

Then, Sam tilted his head to the side and asked, “Are you leaving?”

“Uh, yeah?  Rehearsal’s over.  Don’t want to hold anyone up for any interviews when it’s this late and I could do that any other time.”  Gabriel shrugged, not understanding what the fuck was happening right now.

Until Sam said, “Don’t you want me to come back with you?”

Was this a trick?  What the fuck was he playing at right now?  Gabriel was smart, he prided himself on his quick wit and intelligence and for the life of him, he couldn’t get a read on this kid.  Sam was just as confident as last night.  Although the dancer had phrased it as a question, it _wasn’t_ a question.  It was Sam telling Gabriel he was going home with him tonight.  And, fuck, this was the biggest war both of Gabriel’s heads had ever waged in his entire existence.

“You just got your ass kicked out there, sure you just don’t want to go home and sleep?”  He pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

Sam changed his approach, and played a flirtatious kind of coy.  “Not when you’re here.”

Gabriel didn’t know why he just went for it - but he did.  “So you can run out immediately afterwards?”

That was the first thing to catch Sam off guard.  “I, uh, didn’t know if you’d want me to stay-”

“Fuckin’ _of course_ I wanted you to.”  He rolled his eyes, then finished with, “But if you want to leave, at least tell me so I can lock the fuckin' door behind you.”

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times before looking down at his feet.  Then, after a deep breath, he lifted his chin up and snapped his attention to Gabriel with laser-focus, “So that’s a yes.”

“Friggin’ little asshole,” Gabriel grumbled under his breath. “Let’s go.”

Then, just like a light switch, Sam’s smirk turned devious as he waved to some people Gabriel didn’t even want to see and they walked out together.  

Sam hiked his duffle bag up on one shoulder while he dug through his hoodie pocket for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before asking Gabriel, “Does this bother you?”

“Not in the slightest.”  He kept his tone even as they walked.

Once Sam lit up and tucked the items away, he was only two deep inhales in before the dancer made his next move.  Gabriel knew he was in for it, because Sam didn’t hesitate to hold his hand (the one not poised with the cigarette), just like last time.  But this time, his thumb began caressing the soft skin along the back of Gabriel's.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked in a curious way, when they were out of view of the theater.

“No,” Gabriel answered almost too quickly.  “You’re just confusing as shit.  That’s all.”

Sam’s voice dropped to a husky tone as they walked and promised, “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Will you, now?”  He looked over his shoulder and the expression on Sam’s face was all he needed to see while he exhaled a cloud of smoke.  “Good.  You’re gonna have to work for it, though.”  At this point, he was just dramatizing everything, trying to get Sam going, “I was pretty pissed off when I woke up alone.  You gotta lot of fixing to do.”

They both knew the way to Gabriel’s apartment and thankfully it was later and the streets were relatively empty, because they were power walking.  At one point, Sam’s hand left Gabriel’s to wrap around his lower back, then rest in the rear pocket of his jeans.

It was hard, holding back the huff of laughter because of Meg’s previous comment, and the image of a nudist Ballet Company - however; the irony was perfect.  Meg wanted to see Sam’s ass?  And Gabriel was going to be the one to get it, two nights in a row.

\--------------

Gabriel would have thought the five hour rehearsal would have worn Sam out, but the dancer was still riding high on adrenaline, or high on _something_.  He was fucking insatiable - but neither men were complaining.

Especially Gabriel, from where he had his fingers digging deep enough into Sam’s hips to bruise as he fucked him from behind.

Sam was bucking back wildly, meeting his every thrust and moaning his name as their skin slapped together.  Nothing about it was pretty - it was primal and desperate.

From the second they entered the loft, it was an urgent sense of deja vu.  Sam was on him like he was hunting his prey, but Gabriel was ready for him this time.  He met his attacks head on and it transformed into something inhuman.  Gabriel couldn’t even begin to describe it.

When he was with Sam the rest of the world fell away.

It was only the two of them, speaking with their bodies instead of their words and everything was so _real_.  Their strange connection was… indescribable.  

When Sam shouted out, arching his back and clenching down on Gabriel’s cock it was a rush.  A rush that shot through him like electricity and jump-started his euphoria.  He snapped his hips forward with more brutality, his orgasm surging through him as he came even harder than the night before.

His breath was racing as he lazily thrust into Sam’s body a few more times, before he collapsed back to his haunches to collect himself.  Gabriel tugged off the condom to toss in the trash, while Sam fell to his side with a goofy grin.

“I made a mess.”  He announced breathlessly, nodding to the cum-coated comforter.  “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”  Gabriel climbed up the bed towards him and stole a kiss.  “You don’t give a single fuck.”  He shoved him to his back and kissed his neck, tasting his salty skin.

“Mm, you’re right.  Not one.”  Sam tilted his head to give Gabriel better access to his throat and ran his hands through the other man’s hair.  “God, you’re amazing.”

“I told you, the name’s Gabriel.”  He sucked a mark into the tender flesh, just because he could, and added, “But if I fucked your brains out, you can’t be held accountable.”

“Mission successful, then.”  Sam ducked his head and used his forehead to butt Gabriel’s brow, “Hey, I’m up here.”

He grinned and shifted his weight until they were eye level.  “So you are.”

Sam cupped both of Gabriel’s cheeks and drew him in for a deeper kiss.  One that was more meaningful and full of something else.  The kind you found yourself lost in, and never knew how much time past until someone yawned and you realized just how late it was getting.

It was Sam who pulled away, his exhaustion getting the better of him and it was Gabriel who said, “We can just dump the comforter on the floor.  I’ll wash it tomorrow.  We should be warm enough,” he quirked a deliberate eyebrow, “ _If_ you stay.”

Sam followed Gabriel as he stood up and pulled the slate-grey bedding away, and commented, “I didn’t know that was going to be a big deal.”  He hesitated, before admitting, “I just thought you had work to do and a life.  I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Gabriel got under the covers and he took a good look at Sam, while squinting.  “I’m not sure if that’s bullshit and you’re a really good liar or it’s the truth.”

When Sam moved with him and laid down on the pillow to face him, he shook his head.  “It’s the truth.”  When Gabriel gaze him a patronizing face, Sam continued.  “C’mon.  I told you things about me that I’ve never told anyone before.  Why would I do that and just take off if I genuinely didn’t have a reason?”

“Maybe ‘cause the sex is awesome?”

“Well, there’s that too.”  Sam smirked, then scoffed.  “You’re distracting me.  I just…thought it would be for the best, is all.  I know you’re all famous blogger guy, why would you want to wake up with some random?  I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“Really?”  He deadpanned, reaching out to bring them closer, “I’m gonna be seeing that mug almost every day for the next couple weeks.  I asked you on a date.  It looks to me like I’m more of some random to _you_ , kid.”

While Sam let himself be pulled closer, he let out a heavy breath and looked like he wanted to say something, but wouldn’t.

“What?”

“Nothing.  So…you want me to stay?”  Sam chewed his lip.  “Really?”

“Yes.”  Gabriel enunciated it slowly, hoping it finally get through his thick head.  “Why is this so hard for you to get?”

“Because it _is_ ,” he shrugged, letting himself feel the touch of Gabriel’s hand running up and down his side.  “I’m used to hooking up and leaving.  Just.  That’s how college always worked.  Especially with my job.  That’s how my life is now.  I don’t stay.  I always leave after.  This is something new to me.”

“Because of rehearsals, job and needing to get your sleep, or because of the people you tend to bang?”  Now, Gabriel’s interest was piqued.

Even in his life and his line of work, at least one night stands would stay for coffee.  Maybe not _breakfast_ \- but a shower and coffee tended to be a common courtesy.

“Yeah.  Maybe it was more about the people I tended to bang.”  Sam let out a humorless laugh and shrugged his shoulders.  “Another secret not too many people know?  School was important.  I needed the degree because I wanted to choreograph, and while talent is half of it, training is just as important.  Getting that piece of paper from the University is just as important.  And while I had scholarships, I still needed to pay rent, eat, you know - survive.  I’m a goddamn klutz, so I’d get fired the first week of waiting tables anywhere.  And I went back to what I knew.  Which was, uh, more dancing.”

“ _Wait_.”  Gabriel’s hand paused at his waist as he put the pieces together.  “You were a stripper?”

The beat of silence was all Gabriel needed.

“Hey, makes sense.  I mean, we both know you wouldn’t work out too well in the service industry.  ‘Sides,” he mused, as he reached around and grabbed a handful of Sam’s rear, “That’s kinda hot.  But now all I can think about is seeing you dance in a _different_ kind of genre…” Gabriel leaned forward and nipped at his ear.

“That doesn’t weird you out?”  Sam’s normal confidence was below avenge, even though he was eager to feel Gabriel’s affection.

“You assume a lot of things about me and I have no idea _why_ the fuck you do it.  You ever think it’d be a hell of a lot easier to get to know me, ask questions _instead_ of assuming all these things and frustrating the hell out of me?”  He asked in a strangely calm voice.  “Although, I guess the hit it and quit it makes more sense now.   _But-_ ” he but strong emphasis on the word, “I want you here.  Until _you_ have to be somewhere else, not because you think you’re cramping my style.  My schedule is as flexible as your hot bod, so there’s that.”

Finally, Sam honest-to-God laughed, and Gabriel’s heart felt a little lighter.

“Are we good?”  Gabriel pressed their foreheads together as he cupped Sam’s cheek.  “Be honest with me.  Are there any questions?  Any problem?  Anything you want to talk about?”

Sam closed the gap between their lips and kissed him once.  When he pulled away, he hummed and asked, “Do you snore?”

“No, you shit head.”

“Then we’re good.”

Gabriel caught a glimpse of Sam’s smile out of the corner of his eye and, thank God, he felt as though things were finally moving in the right direction.  Maybe this had been sorted out.  Maybe things would be all right, hopefully things _finally_ sunk in with Sam.

He felt like they were on the right track when the dancer moved closer to him; when Sam tucked his head underneath Gabriel’s chin and wrapped not only his arms around him, but tangled their legs together.  Sam was relaxing, he was settling in for the night and Gabriel could feel he wasn’t going anywhere.

And Gabriel shouldn’t be so damn happy about it, but he really, really was.


	6. Chapter 6

When Gabriel’s alarm automatically went off at six, he didn’t lunge for it as quickly as he had the previous day because his first instinct wasn’t to do so.  His first instinct was to see if Sam had ditched him or not.

But the groan and the warm breath against his neck answered his question for him.

Gabriel couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment and smirked while he reached out and slapped his hand over the device.  Sam was still wrapped around him, his naked skin the perfect heated blanket, when he entered his password and reset the alarm to an hour later.

There was no need to be up right now.

Especially when a certain gorgeous man was literally tangled around him like a sea creature.

Sam adjusted his grip, pulling the blanket over them to hide the rising sun from his eyes and nestling closer.  And, yeah, Gabriel could totally get used to this.

He closed his eyes even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep.  Still, he could enjoy the moment and wonder what part of their chat last night did it.  What were the specific words that made Sam stay?  He seemed out of his element.  Confused as to why anyone would want him to stay the night.

Which actually, now that Gabriel’s brain was awake, really pissed him off.

The fact that no one had ever treated Sam like he was worth so much as a good night’s sleep in someone else’s bed?  Or the fact that Sam didn’t feel like he was?

It was obvious he’d never been in a relationship.  He was too damn focused, too driven by his dream to let anyone in because he didn’t have the time.  That part at least made sense.  It’s not like Gabriel was thinking about a relationship.  He only wanted Sam’s view of the world, of his interactions and ideas about sex and relations to be less…skewed.

Maybe Gabriel could change that.  A little TLC never hurt anyone, and if _anyone_ needed it, it happened to be the man curled up on his chest.  Right now, Sam was probably holding someone for one of the first mornings in his life.

How fucked up was that?

Gabriel’s body moved of its own accord and kissed the top of Sam’s head, even though it was covered by a thin linen blanket.  When he did so, Sam squeezed him and relaxed again, obviously in no rush to get up.

So Gabriel decided to go over a mental list of all the things he had to do today.

He needed to update Abby about his progress, ask her if he should call in his photographer buddy when dress rehearsals came around or if she was gonna be a bitch and assign him one.  He needed to clean.  His apartment had been a mess since he began living in it again, and if this thing between Sam and him became a _regular_ thing, he didn’t want the dancer to think he was a slob, living in filth.

He’d begun the outline of his article and he had a few places to go with it.  But the more he thought about it, the more he was inclined to take it in a different direction.  Naturally, he had to include the performance as well as a review (which would obviously be of the rave variety) but he was still contemplating the rest.  The opener and the conclusion.  Which meant he was going to have to schedule some meetings with some people and set up lunch interviews.

Lunch, because he wasn’t going to miss rehearsals.

It wasn’t like he’d signed a contract he needed to attend each one, but he now felt ties to the company and he wanted to be there.  He was interested in seeing their growth, observing the entire process, and - oh, that little thing about Ruby throwing herself at Sam.

That wouldn’t do.

It wasn’t as if he was threatened by her, not by a long shot, but he knew girls like her.  The ones who were head-over-heels and would try some nasty methods to get what they want.  Sam was a big boy, of course, he could handle it, but what if he didn’t want to?  It wasn’t like he and Gabriel were monogamous or had some kind of title.

Now, with the brand-spankin’ new knowledge that Sam was practically a sex fiend in mind, who knows if he’d get tired of him?

Maybe he’d _want_ to switch it up with Ruby?

No, Sam had specifically said she was clingy and that was a sticky situation he wanted nothing to do with.

Jesus - why was he having all these deep thoughts this early?

Normally, he’d wake up with morning wood, jerk off in the shower, drink some coffee and write.

What the fuck was this kid doing to him?

Well, currently he was beginning to wake up and stretch his limbs from under the covers with a loud yawn.  Then, he pulled back the sheet, just enough to see Gabriel through sleepy eyes and greeted, “Morning.”

“Heya.”  Gabriel ran his hands through his hair and this time when he kissed his forehead, it was skin instead of blanket.  “Want me to make us some coffee?”

“That’d be awesome.”  He was back to happy, slightly goofy puppy mode, as he unraveled his limbs from Gabriel and began collecting his clothes.

Gabriel headed to his dresser and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a worn t-shirt as he headed down the flight of stairs, surprised as Sam followed him.

His voice perked up as he looked around and gushed, “Wow.  This is gorgeous, Gabe,” taking in the open loft space for the first time during the day.

“Yeah, I like it, too.”  Gabriel clucked his tongue, “Nearly all of my pay check goes to this beaut, because our office is in New York - so I’m required to be here.  And I hate being claustrophobic, so I decided this was how I’d budget.”

Gabriel began fixing the coffee while Sam was still busy looking around at the exposed brick walls, the open skylines and suddenly there was a _crash_.

“The fuck-?”

Gabriel rushed around the breakfast bar to see Sam on the floor, twisted up with one of his dining room chairs, looking pathetic and offended as he tried to dislodge his leg.

The reported couldn’t help it.

Gabriel burst out laughing until he was doubled over with his hands on his knees, the only support he had from falling to the ground himself.

“It’s _not_ funny!”  Sam snapped, finally scrambling to his feet and setting the chair upright and examining it.  Then, he dejectedly mumbled, “At least I didn’t break it.”

He grabbed Sam by the back of the neck and hauled him down to his lips, because he was too fucking cute and he needed to kiss him.  Sam’s pout was hard to wipe off, but eventually his lips were pliant and he kissed Gabriel back.  After a loud ‘muah,’ Gabriel pulled away with a huge smile and shook his head.

“God, you’re adorable.”

“Shut up.”  Sam huffed with little venom, since he was still trying to recover from the embarrassment.  “Do you have a balcony or porch?”

“Do you promise not to fall off it?”  Gabriel raised a challenging eyebrow, before pointing out, “Around the curve of the staircase, there’s a sliding glass door.  Don’t.  Die.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam grumbled, “I’ll try not to,” while producing his cigarettes and lighter from his jacket in the entryway.

Gabriel chuckled to himself and shook his head as he watched the coffee pot brew.  Sure, he had a Keurig, but there was something about being able to give yourself warm ups and not having to drain a cup in one sitting.  He liked the old fashioned way better.  He figured Sam was the same way, and now he didn’t have to guess what K-Cup was best suited to the dancer.  Sam could fix it however he wanted it, and that would be it.

Then, another thought crossed his mind.

Would Sam want breakfast?

Should he be cooking right now?

He knew a lot of people who were coffee drinkers and morning smokers and that was their breakfast.  He didn’t know Sam’s morning routine enough to know these things, and he didn’t want him to feel forced into eating pancakes or something.

Fuck.  He was overthinking this.

Oh well.

He poured two cups, grabbed the half and half as well as a cup of sugar with a spoon to set out on the dining room table.  Gabriel took the seat Sam had attacked, and right when he sat down was when the other man walked in.  He flashed a smile at Gabriel and graciously made a beeline for the caffeine.

Gabriel noted he only took cream with his coffee when he asked, “So what’s scheduled for today in the Winchester world?”

“Same thing I do every day,” Sam took a sip.  “Morning smoke, coffee, jog, gym, shower, get some down time and then rehearsal.”

“Huh,” Gabriel tilted his head, “You’re literally a human exercise machine, aren’t you?”

“It’s basically in the contract,” Sam gave him a half smile.  “I’m glad your alarm’s early.  I usually start my day at seven, so this’ll give me enough time to get back to my apartment and get my gym clothes on.”

“Works out well, then.  See,” he pointed a finger in the dancer’s direction, “You have no reason _not_ to stay.  We both have early mornings, so no harm no foul.”

“I guess that’s true,”  he sighed in a dramatic voice, hands cradling the coffee mug.

“Unless it was honestly that bad.”  Gabriel challenged with a raised eyebrow.

With a smirk, Sam shook his head.  “No.  It wasn’t bad.  It wasn’t bad at all.”

\-----------------

It _really_ began to be a thing.

Not just a ‘once every so often’ thing.

Sam would literally go home with Gabriel every single night and wake up with him every single morning.  To the point that he began bringing his workout clothes in his rehearsal duffle so he could simply jog to the gym from Gabriel’s instead of having to stop at his own apartment.

No one noticed or said anything, at least.  It was a strange secret they were keeping between the two of them, as rehearsals ran into tech week and dress rehearsals were about to start up.  

Hell, the ’thing’ even had evolved into the traditional Monday date night.  They could go out and forget about anything that had nothing to do with the ballet or the article and just be them.

If it had merely stopped at Sam’s sensual questions of, “Aren’t you taking me home tonight?” after rehearsals, Gabriel would have been fine.

But it was the goddamn _dates_ that were getting him.

The more time he spent with Sam, the more time it felt like the _thing_ they had together... _was_ a thing.  But he didn’t know if Sam even remotely returned those sentiments.  Because the dancer's perception of relationships was so damaged, in a way.

Night to night, their encounters varied - but they always involved sex.

If Crowley was being a slave-driver, screaming at the dancers and working them raw, Gabriel already knew before they even reached his loft that sex was going to be fast, rough and borderline violent.  That was how Sam expressed himself - through his body - and demanded Gabriel fuck him the way he wanted, or specifically _needed_ to be fucked.

However, the longer they were doing this, the more they were together and he confided in Gabriel, Sam opened himself up little by little.  He didn’t order it to be down and dirty all the time.  He _trusted_ Gabriel, let him have his way and sometimes they took things slower.  While it didn’t constitute making love by a long shot, it was a different kind of urgency and desire.

Not to mention the fact that Sam never snuck out on him again gave way to the option of morning sex.  And while it wasn’t extremely common, every once in awhile Sam woke him up with a blowjob.  Or Gabriel would languidly fuck Sam from behind when he woke up to the dancer teasingly grinding on his cock.

All the time added up, and knowing that dress rehearsal began next week?

It terrified the reported.

Because Sam was hard to read.

What if this was only for the duration of the article?

What if this was gonna be a "well, it was fun while it lasted" situation.

Gabriel…wasn’t sure he could go back to sleeping alone after getting used to Sam’s body next to him every single fucking day for the past three weeks.

It couldn’t be just him, right?  Obviously, their chemistry was off the charts.  Sam could get whoever he wanted and he consistently chose Gabriel, _every time._  But who knew if it was out of convenience.  After all, they did live three blocks away, he was already there for them to walk home together, and Sam happened to be obsessed with the size of his dick.  Or maybe he was feeling the start of emotions Gabriel was feeling?

Fuck.  This was sticky as shit.  Gabriel hoped he wasn’t another Ruby in the making, because Sam had talked about her like he was allergic to commitment.  

Maybe, just maybe, Gabriel should try to bring it up.

Because if Sam felt the same way?  Fantastic.  If it was about convenience?  Gabriel still lived right on his way home, and the reporter wasn’t above pretending he wanted to continue their sexscapades after the show opened if only to continue seeing Sam.  How fucked up was that?

Gabriel jumped a little when Charlie plopped down beside him in one of the seats, looking nervous and like she was psyching herself up for something.

“ _Jesus_ , Bradbury!”  Gabriel hissed, trying not to disrupt the rehearsal, “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry, sorry!  I know, smooth, well, okay.  Here goes.”  She took in a deep breath, before turning her entire body to face him.

Which scared the crap out of him, all over again, because what the hell did carefree, bubbly Charlie need to get so serious about?  He matched her posture, turning away from where they were running light cues for one of the Dances of the Swans and gave her his full attention.

“I know this is probably totes unfair of me, but we’ve all gotten really close during the rehearsals, what, with hanging out and dinners and stuff,” she chewed on her bottom lip.  “Do you have a photographer or videographer for your article?  Because if you don‘t, that's, like, my other _dream job_.  And, not to brag or anything, but I‘ve gotten a lot of my work published and if anyone could catch the _apex_ of the jumps, or the _exact_ moments during the show that‘d make for the best photos - it‘s me.  Since I know the ballet inside out and backwards and-”

“You do photography?  When the hell do you find time?”  Gabriel was baffled, because he knew Sam’s busy schedule already - which left no room for a hobby.  That was why he was so surprised.

“ _Lots_ of Red Bull, _not_ much sleep.  Here,” Charlie pulled out her phone, “Check out my Instagram - sweet brag on the likes, right?  No biggie.  But I’m _so_ serious if you need a photographer, I would love to.  I need more street cred, and I’d love to get you some awesome dance pics.”

Gabriel took the phone from her and scrolled through.  As he went, he had to admit he was _really_ damn impressed.  Charlie, his little ballerina, was better than the majority of the photags they had on the payroll, and she was a random freelancer who did this because she loved it.  When he got to some images of the ballet, he immediately stopped.  Yep.  These were better than any fumbling jackass their company could send out.

Because Charlie was right.

She knew movement.  She knew the choreography.  She knew exactly when to click that shutter when the highest point of the dancer’s arabesque hit.  Charlie would do light years better than _anyone_ they could employ.  Even if their photographer had the knowledge of dance, they didn’t know the show.

Gabriel handed the phone back, and the poor girl was looking at him with puppy eyes that rivaled Sam’s.  Her body caved in on itself due to nerves and he couldn’t help but reach out and sling his arm around her.

“Stop that, now.”  Gabriel shook her and all Charlie gave in return was a confused expression.  “While we do have a photographer scheduled, I’m gonna make some calls and do a switcher-roo.  You’ve got skill, girl.  You’re _exactly_ what we need.”

Charlie squealed so loud, the entire cast and crew in the auditorium whipped around to look at her.

“Sorry, sorry!”  She quickly apologized, then glued herself to Gabriel in a massive hug.  “ _Ohmigosh_!”  Charlie gushed, “Really?  Are you sure?  You’re _amazing_ , I can’t thank you enough, I-”

He patted her on the back and chuckled, “I’ve gotta good eye for these things.  I’ll let you know, officially, tomorrow.  Only thing I’m wondering, don’t _you_ wanna be in the photos?”

When Charlie pulled away, she shrugged, “The ones that’ll go on the site are gonna be the ones with the first-round draft-picked leads.  Always are.  Even though I'm second-round, they're advertising what the audience can expect when they see the show.  And the first run is Ruby and Meg, anyway.  I know how it goes, Gabe.  Even if I found someone to take the pics while I was on stage, those wouldn’t be published online.  It'll be all Sam, Ruby and Meg with the ensemble blurred out.  Something that sucks about being in a ballet, ya know?  It's always the pretty soloists.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard a little bit about that.”  Then, Gabriel had to pause, because Charlie’s dejected voice was making him impulsive and he asked, “Would it be different in a Modern Company?”

She threw her head back and laughed, “Of course!  Sure, there are featured roles, but the majority of companies are groups of dancers, being individuals _within_ the ensemble, and it’s awesome.  I love Modern and Contemporary Companies.  It’s about the group, shapes, dynamics, storytelling, connections and the abstractness of everything makes you think and analyze.  Ballet is black and white.”

“Sounds like you,” he poked her on the nose, “Wouldn’t mind being somewhere else.”

Charlie looked around, hoping to God no one was in earshot before looking back to Gabriel with a, “Shh!  Dude, I’d love to.  But all my training was in Cecchetti Ballet, I lack the moves.  Which might sound weird to you, because you think dance is dance but it totes is _not_.”  She sighed and shook her head.  “My mom put me on the fast track when I was old enough to walk and shoved me through intensive training all my life.  Soon as the bone structure in my feet could handle it, I was on pointe.  Never got to take a jazz, tap, or modern class.  It was ballet, ballet, ballet.  I don’t know anything different.”  She shrugged, her eyes downcast, but then shakes it off, “Okay, I need to stop being emo, because you just gave me the best news ever!”

She smacked a kiss against Gabriel’s cheek before announcing, “Gotta get ready for my ensemble scene!  God, I love the hell out of you!  You’re amaze-balls!”

He just laughed at her and watched her skip off with even more of a bounce in her step than normal - he was surprised she wasn’t hitting the goddamn ceiling.

He flipped back a few pages in his notebook and began to scribble some of the things Charlie had said that resonated with him.  Especially, because they had to do with a certain lunch meeting he had set up tomorrow afternoon.

\----------------

When they entered the loft, Gabriel honestly had no idea what kind of a night this would be.  Tech week was hit and miss when it came to stress.  Half the time the dancers were standing on stage, waiting for the lighting crew to write down the marks on when they needed to switch to the next cue, and the other half it was Crowley making them dance the same numbers, over and over again, until the stage and lighting techs got it correct.

Gabriel couldn’t tell if Sam was _stressed_ because of the upcoming dress rehearsals and then opening night or _excited._   Regardless, the fact they weren’t on top of one another the second the door shut meant something.

It also gave Gabriel the courage to do something he’d wanted to do for a while.

“Hey, you want a snack or something before bed?”

Okay, Gabriel was totally stalling.

“You can be my snack.”  Sam answered mischievously, reaching out his hand in an attempt to lure Gabriel towards him.

Which worked, because he couldn’t refuse it if he tried.

He let himself be pulled into his bedroom, but at the same time he opened his mouth to say, “Can’t get enough of you here with me.”

“You read my mind.”  Sam responded eagerly as Gabriel pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed while he ran his hands through the dancer’s hair.

“I mean it,” he grabbed the bottom of Sam’s shirt and hauled it over his head, “You’re like a goddamn addiction.”  Then, he finally got out the words he was pushing for, “One that I don’t wanna quit once the show’s over.”

Then, fuckin’ Sam with his poker face grinned with a simple, “Oh yeah?” while his hands snuck under Gabriel’s shirt and raked his fingernails down his torso, “You’re that addicted?”

“That’s what I said.”  Gabriel took the message and pulled off his own shirt, still standing and looking down at the other man.  “What about you?”

He traced his fingertips along Gabriel’s half-hard cock that was at eye level, sending a shiver down his spine, before dipping forward and mouthing at the denim.  The feel of Sam’s teeth scraping the jean barrier did the trick, and his erection was pulsing inside his pants in no time.  Then, the way Sam looked up at him and caught his eyes while he unbuttoned and unzipped them was borderline pornographic.

Hell, it turned _explicitly_ pornographic when he pulled Gabriel’s cock from his boxers and swirled the head with his tongue, never breaking eye contact.  Gabriel could feel his knees about to buckle, but then another thing he realized was that Sam was being a little shit and avoiding the conversation.

So Gabriel took a necessary step back, then pulled off his pants and his boxers.  He stayed out of reach, while shameless wrapping his hand around his own cock, when he repeated, “What about you?”

Sam was entranced with the image, mouth hanging open and hungry, before he swallowed and answered, “I think we both know what I’m addicted to.”

All right, that was a start.  It also seemed like this was something Sam wasn’t in the mood to talk about, so he wasn’t going to press his luck.

Instead, he asked, “How do you want it tonight?” while he gripped Sam’s shoulders and laid him back on the bed.

Gabriel remained at a distance while he took off the rest of the clothes on Sam’s frame as the dancer watched his every move - but had yet to say anything.  His eyes were dilated simply observing Gabriel’s movements, scanning his body and taking in the scene.  Which had Gabriel raising an eyebrow.

Because, normally, Sam was _quite_ talkative.  He was a demanding little shit, and right now he seemed like he was under some kind of spell.

And Gabriel had no way to take it.  Maybe he had spooked him, maybe he had-

“Are you clean?”

Sam’s words finally broke the silence and completely took Gabriel aback.

“Wait, what?”  He tilted his head, then asked, “You mean like-?”

“Yeah.”  Sam was making his way backwards on the bed, his eyes never leaving Gabriel’s when he repeated, “Are you?”

“Yes,” he said slowly.  “Think my last test was a couple months back.  Then, because _work_ likes to fuck me, I hit kind of a dry spell.  Why?”

“Good,” there was an actual smile, and not a devilish grin on Sam’s face, when he tried to explain, “I, uh.  After that second night and you asking me to stay, I realized that I really liked it.  And what we have.  So I got tested and my results just came back clean so if you wanna…”

He let the thought hang in the air, and this was the most uncertain Gabriel had ever witnessed Sam act when it came to sex.  It was uncanny.  Sam always took charge, he always dove in headfirst and set the pace, Gabriel being the one to catch up.  Right now, he seemed almost nervous.  Well, not nervous, just neutral - which read as nervous for Sam’s usual M.O.  

Maybe because this was, in Sam’s opinion (and Gabriel’s too), another step.  Right after Gabriel had brought up something about what they were.  The timing might have been too much, but that may have explained Sam’s pliancy.  Now that it was sinking in, that Sam went to these lengths to be with Gabriel and take it to the next level?

Fuck, his cock was throbbing.

While Sam may be hesitant, Gabriel was going to make up for it and then some.

He practically launched at him, pinning Sam’s arms above his head and whispering into his ear, “You wanna feel my cock inside you that bad, Sammy?”

“Fuck, yes,” he tossed his head back as they rutted together and their lips collided, Sam pulling away just enough to moan out, “Want you to fill me with your cum-”

“Goddammit,” Gabriel tried hard not to leave visible marks on Sam, but he couldn’t help his mouth from clamping down on his neck, he was so turned on.  Every part of Gabriel wanted to claim him in some way.  “Do you have _any_ idea how fucking hot you are?”

Sam kept the rhythm of their hips going as he broke free of Gabriel’s grip to grab the lube, countering, “Do _you_ have any idea how fucking bad I need you inside me right now?”

The noise Gabriel made when he ripped the bottle away from Sam and moved down his body was more animal than human.  Before he coated his fingers he sucked the precum from Sam’s erection and lapped down the length.  Gabriel mouthed at his balls before swirling his tongue around Sam’s hole.  Just to tease, he dipped in, licking Sam from the inside while the dancer bucked off the bed and towards his mouth.

Gabriel popped the cap on the lube and, while pouring it out, mused, “I had plans on eating you out tonight, but now all I can think about is pounding that sweet ass right the fuck now.”

“Should I have waited?”  Sam teased, swiveling his hips to lure Gabriel in, “I could have-”

His words transformed into gasps as Gabriel twisted three fingers inside him.  

Because he knew Sam could take it.  

Hell, they could probably forgo prep altogether - sometimes Sam demanded it, but Gabriel never gave in - because there wasn’t a day that went by they didn’t hook up.  Stretching Sam was easy, which was why the dancer sometimes complained as to why they did it in the first place, but Gabriel refused to do anything without.

He kept a steady pace, pushing his fingers in all the way to his knuckle, and almost all the way out.  Sam was writhing, demanding the fourth, and while Gabriel normally would have waited a little longer the indescribable need to be inside him was spurring him forward.  

When he was four fingers deep, he asked Sam, “How do you want me to fuck you?”

“Just like this.”  It was instant and his eyes were locked on Gabriel.  “Wanna watch your naked cock slide into me.”

“Good.”  Gabriel knew he was smirking, somehow the roles had been reversed and he was completely dominating the situation.  “I wanna watch you fall apart underneath me.”

“C’mon, I’m ready-” Sam urged, voice pleaded and body rolling seductively.

Gabriel didn’t have to be told twice.

He pulled his fingers out and reached for the lube, although it was almost second nature to dig around on the bed for a condom, the thrill shot through his spine reminding him that they didn’t need one.  Just to be safe, Gabriel used more lube than he normally would before he hiked Sam’s legs over his shoulders.  He could always nail Sam’s prostate from his angle and Sam’s flexibly allowed Gabriel to kiss the hell out of him too.

Sam looked like he was holding his breath, anticipation making his heart race and Gabriel felt the same thing.  They’d done this dance enough times that Gabriel had no problem shifting his hips, knowing Sam’s body as well as his own, and slowly sinking in.

Gabriel was overwhelmed with the sensation, to be inside Sam without a barrier, and Sam was enraptured with the sight, coupled with the feeling.  When he bottomed out, Gabriel reached and knotted his fingers in Sam’s hair, mouthing at his jaw because it felt fucking _perfect_ \- and he never even thought Sam would give him something like this.

“God, Gabe,” Sam roughly sealed their lips together as he locked his ankles behind Gabriel’s head and rolled his hips.  “Love your cock-”

He knew that was enough sign to move.

Gabriel knew they were taking this fast, but how could they not?

It was an aphrodisiac - the level of trust between them, and the feel of their bodies moving together.

And the fact that this was just the beginning.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long, so right now it was his mission to make sure Sam got off first.  Gabriel angled his thrusts until he heard the dancer whimper into his mouth and then began pounding into him without remorse.

Sam’s breaths were punched from his lungs, but he was moaning his name and, “Feels perfect, Gabe, cum inside me - _please-_ ”

Those words were going straight to Gabriel’s dick.

 _Shit_ , he was trying to hold it together, but the dirty words Sam was moaning into his ear, the way he was nipping at his neck and he was still so fucking tight around his cock-

Gabriel reached down to jerk Sam off, because he was too close-

But before he could, Sam was painting both their bodies with cum and squeezing Gabriel with his muscled legs.

It couldn’t have been at a better time, because Gabriel was lost in the tight heat, and Sam was demanding him to fill him up - and the thought alone?  He was blowing his load inside _Sam_ , not into a condom, but into the beautiful man underneath him, who was _begging_ him for it.

He was dizzy, in a dazed state, and Sam was wrapping his arms around him, kissing him with something akin to adoration.  It was a closeness Gabriel had never felt with him before - and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the sex or something else.

But once Gabriel was back to himself, he surged into the kiss and tried to put the feelings he’d never voice into actions.  Because he _had_ to.  He couldn’t hold himself back, not when it came to Sam because -

\- Fuck.

He could be in love.

And he may not have realized it until now.

He wouldn’t say it, there was no way in hell he’d verbalize these things, but the way Sam was kissing him almost told him a similar story but… he couldn’t get his hopes up.

So instead, he pulled away and whispered, “That was amazing.”

“Yeah, it was.”  Sam’s eyes glowed when they watched him, and his fingertips lifted and gently touched his neck, “Um, sorry about that.”

“Huh?”  Gabriel reached up and felt a patch of raised skin, but when he glanced at Sam he huffed a laugh and said, “Yeah, I’m sorry too.”

With wide, blinking eyes, Sam repeated Gabriel’s motions and snorted.  “Wow.  What a pair, we make.”

“Scarves?  Make-up?”

“Or we could just…”  Sam looked hesitant, like he had something on the tip of his tongue, but switched it to, “We’ll come up with something tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel tilted his chin, looking at Sam.  “Wanna take a quick shower this time?”

“You read my mind.”


	7. Chapter 7

Gabriel almost woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Due to the fact that when his alarm went off - he was alone.

For the first time in weeks.

Then he berated himself.  Had he freaked Sam out?  Asking him if he wanted to continue this after the show?  Had last night been too intense?  Did he hit a button he shouldn’t have and accidentally aborted the entire mission?

He was having a near panic attack before the scent of lingering cigarette smoke and coffee hit his nose, and Sam was walking back into the room with two mugs.  He was wearing a pair of sweats he’d left at Gabriel’s, slung low on his hips, showing off those amazing sex lines and abs (along with the rest of his muscled torso) when he set the cups down on the nightstand.

Sam crawled onto the bed, laid back down on his stomach and explained, “Got up early.  Couldn’t sleep so I made coffee.”

Gabriel downplayed his imminent breakdown with the joke, “How many things did you break?”

With a bitchface and a half-assed punch to the shoulder, Sam answered, “None, you jerk.”  Then paused, and admitted, “The coffee might be really strong, though.”

“You accidentally dumped in too much, didn’t you?”

“It may have been the rest of the bag.  So, uh, you may need more coffee next grocery run.”

“I knew it.”  Gabriel was wearing a shit-eating grin as he tackled the dancer and pulled him back in.  “Mm, you’re warm.  Rule is: you stay in bed until the alarm.”

“I get antsy,” Sam’s voice was a whine as he nibbled on the man’s ear, but then paused to move his head.  “Damn.  I _really_ got you.”

“Jesus.  Why are you smiling?”  He narrowed his eyes as Sam stared openly at the mark.

“Because I’m a goddamn vampire and had no idea.”

“You do sparkle, you know.”  Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows, and got a pillow in the face as a response.

“You’re a dick.”

“Shaddup.  You love me.”  He fought his way from underneath the pillow and pinned Sam to the bed, “Thank you for coffee, my little vampire,” and ducked forward to kiss him.

The way Sam kissed him back was different than usual.  He fought to get his hands free so he could wrap one around Gabriel’s waist and the other to cradle the back of his head.  And his mouth moved sweetly, faintly tasting like cigarettes (which was something strange Gabriel was growing fond of) reminiscent of how they kissed when they were wrapped up in the afterglow.  Not in the middle of a pillow fight.

Gabriel did not mind this one bit.

He reciprocated eagerly, matching every intimate movement, the sensual brush of their tongues and the confident way he pulled Gabriel closer.

Sam had most definitely woke up on the right side of the bed.  The _best_ side of the bed.

Maybe he had thought about what was said last night, everything that had happened, because the way he was kissing Gabriel was all he could ask for and more.  That’s what he was _hoping_ , deep down at least.

He didn’t want to let Sam go - but his second goddamn alarm went off, he huffed when he had to pull out of the dancer’s arms.

The second alarm was a new one - the one that told them both Sam needed to leave for the gym within the hour.  It woke them up and gave them time for morning sex or snoozing a bit, his morning routine and then getting ready for his job.  It was uncanny how Sam had integrated into Gabriel’s life so flawlessly.

When he looked back, Sam was smiling at him with his cheeks a bit flushed.  And he was gorgeous as all hell.  Except, instead of letting Gabriel tackle him back down, he sat up and reached for his coffee and took a sip.

The face he made nearly had Gabriel laughing out loud.

“Yeah.  Made this _way_ too strong.”

\------------------

Gabriel had a cubic fuck-ton of new information after his lunch meeting and was typing away at his laptop.  He’d called Abby and told her about the slightly new angle he was taking the article.  She told him to tread lightly and write up two, just in case.  She told him he needed a fail-safe, because he might take this ‘new angle’ too far, if she knew him.  Which she did.  Gabriel would take her advice, of course, but he also knew she and the rest of the readers expected left-field topics out of him.

He wasn’t going to give a cut-and-dry scoop behind the scenes and review of the ballet.

That’s not who he was.

Which was why he had the other meeting and was currently jotting down part of the story that turned it into a new creature.  Which had Abby impressed but wary.

Which was his job.

After all, this time he’d leave it up to her to approve the final product, anyway.  Like he was _supposed_ to.

He jumped a little when his phone vibrated from a text and looked down to see it was from Sam.  Which was…different.  He could literally count on two hands the number of times they’d texted each other, so he was curious.

He couldn’t help but snort when he read it:

 _3:40PM  
_ _costumers having me come in early for fitting and apparently im doing a dress rehearsal tonight to make sure the outfit ‘moves correctly’ bc it’s custom made._

 _3:41PM  
_ _said costume has open neck.  ive tried to cover my mark with makeup but ill sweat it off.  please cover your battle wound tonight since I cant :/_

Gabriel actually felt sorry for him.  While all the ballerinas were virtually the same size and could fit into the same leotards and tutus, the Company most definitely had never cast a lead as tall as Sam.  Which meant they couldn’t reuse costumes in their vast collection and one needed to be crafted to fit him with every new performance.

Even though the first official dress rehearsal wasn’t until Saturday, they’d need to make sure they had sewn it to perfection to withstand all the choreography and range of motion his character danced.  Of course, it made sense on the Company’s end.

However, Sam had probably figured out something to wear tonight to cover Gabriel’s masterpiece of a hickey.  And now, because of this wrench, it would be out for the rest of his fellow dancers and the friggin _world_ to see.  And there would be inevitable harassment.  If Gabriel didn’t do everything in his power to cover his, everyone would put two and two together and it seemed this wasn’t something Sam wanted.

Gabriel wasn’t sure if it bothered him or not, but they’d been keeping it private thus far, so of course he’d honor Sam’s request.

He responded:

 _3:50PM  
_ _LOL that sucks literally. ill get out my turtleneck bodysuit <3 _

Sam answered:

 _3:51PM  
_ _sexy. thanks though ill see you tonight_

Gabriel wasn’t sure if he should respond or not, so he set the phone down and returned to his article.

There were very few times they wrote themselves, after all, and he was on a roll.  He’d keep going until he ran out of inspiration and then figure out what he was going to wear tonight.  He was pretty sure he did have some scarves, or some kind of suit jacket with a fashionable high necked collar.  Gabriel would keep his promise to Sam, if only to watch him be the butt of the torment while Gabriel idly sat by and laughed while he watched it happen.

\------------

Gabriel got to the rehearsal early, half because of Sam and half because he needed to chat with Charlie.

Apparently, Sam was still down in the dressing room with the costume designer, but the redhead was easy to find.  He flagged her down and her eyes were wide as saucers as she sprinted over to him.  Hell, she was moving so fast, she almost took him out when she tried to stop, with too much momentum behind her petite frame.

“Woah, there, killer!”  Gabriel teased, grabbing her shoulders to prevent a collision.

“Sorry, sorry!  I mean, hey, what’s up!”  She struggled for nonchalance and put her hands on her hips when Gabriel let go.

“So I talked to my publisher,” Gabriel began and Charlie was brimming with energy, a barely-contained little ball of fire ready to explode.  He knew he couldn’t draw it out too long.  “ _And_ she gave me the go-ahead to let you take over on the photography side of this article.”

“Shut the flip up!”  She launched herself into Gabriel’s arms and was vibrating joy.  “I won’t let you down!  These will totes be the best photos you’ll ever see!  Ah, Gabe!  You’re the best, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

When she finally pulled away, her excitement was contagious and he laughed, “No problem, kiddo.  Like I said, you’ve got the talent.  Now we’ll just have to figure out a good day when your AD won’t freak out when you’re running around snapping pics.  You think that’s gonna be a problem?”

“To be honest,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “I’m one of the people he hates the least, so as long as we find a rehearsal where he’s in a not murderous mood?  We can do it.”

“Not murderous.  Sounds a lot like my boss.”  He snorted and shook his head.

He was pulled out of his conversation with Charlie by some cat calls and whistles coming from the front row of seating.  When Gabriel glanced over, it was to see Sam in full costume, proudly showing everyone his middle finger.  But Gabriel was too distracted by his ass in that moment.

Seeing Sam on the internet in tights versus real life were two totally different, completely indescribable things.

“Dude,” Charlie was still whispering to him, “Your gay is showing.”

“Wha-?”  He looked at her to see a wicked smirk on her face, to which he replied, “Shut up.  I just got you your dream job, don’t hate that I’m appreciating the scenery!”

“I’m not judging.”  She bumped their hips together, “I’m a lady’s gal and even _I_ can appreciate the deliciousness that is Sam Winchester in tights.  Oh, hey, is that-” she squinted.  “Dude!  He’s got a monster hickey I can see from here!”

“Really?”  Gabriel played along, “Looks like someone is appreciating him without the tights on, too.”

“I thought the hickey story from Ruby a few weeks back was fake, but _that_ is def not fake.  Shit, Sam has been with someone _all this time_ and we had no idea?!  I have a mission!”  Charlie whipped her focus over to Gabriel, her features set in fierce determination.  “I will get the scoop, because my friends _will not_ get away from hiding things from me, hell no!”

“When you get it, fill me in because you know I just _love_ the gossip,” Gabriel winked at her and patted her cheek.  “Get ’em, my little detective.”

“You better believe it!”  She moseyed off, in a much different way than she’d approached him, but Gabriel thought he did well.

He played it off, didn’t give her any reason to suspect it was him and as long as Sam kept his game face on, no one would know.  And Gabriel knew, first hand, Sam had one hell of a poker face.  There was no way Charlie, no matter how dedicated, would figure out the ‘mystery.’  But it’d be fun to watch her try.

\----------------

Gabriel knew they got one break.  Some chose to smoke, others grabbed a snack, and still ‘til this day, Gabriel had no idea what Sam did with his.  He decided to send a friendly warning, however - just in case he needed it.  He sent it much _before_ the break, so no one would harass him if his phone vibrated and asked him who was messaging him.

 _6:17PM  
_ _charlies playing detective approach ginger with caution_

And when the break did roll around, he received a surprise text back.

 _7:40PM  
_ _shes good at it. thanks for the heads up_

 _7:43PM  
_ _Watch your back too she won’t stop gushing about how youre letting her do photography shell be sucking up a lot_

With a quirked eyebrow, Gabriel couldn’t help himself:

 _7:44PM  
_ _jealous?  would you like to take some pics too?_

What surprised Gabriel the most, was Sam was spending a chunk of his break actually responding back to his teasing.

7:46PM  
_very jealous you know how much i love photography  
you should send me a pic_

That was what took Gabriel completely off guard.  Because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind Sam was serious, which was all kinds of ridiculous and he voiced it right away.

 _7:49PM  
_ _of course in the middle of this witch hunt of who ur banging, let me just slip into the bathroom and get myself hard to send you a dick pic that’s a great idea_

Sam’s text read:

 _7:50PM  
_ _so is that a no? :(_

When Gabriel started laughing out loud, he didn’t even notice Meg was munching on a snack two rows in front of him and demanded, “The hell is so funny?”

“Nothing.”  He shook his head, trying to come up with a retort.  “Just something a coworker sent me.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie, since he was working along side the dance company.

 _7:52PM  
_ _maybe later_

Gabriel noticed that his break was nearly over, but Sam still wrote him back.

 _7:53PM  
_ _ill remember that.  Fyi_

He sent:

 _7:54PM  
_ _Get that perky ass on stage romeo_

\-------------

They had to be careful about how they left that night.  Since Charlie really was like a dog with a bone.

Ruby was visibly upset and off her game and Gabriel couldn’t help feeling a strange sense of victory from it - but the downside was Sam and her had to run their scenes multiple times.  Meg had chatted and gossiped with him about it, saying it was interesting because “if Sam’s hickey was from the same person as before, this is the longest he’s ever been hooking up with someone.”

Gabriel had to feign indifference, but did manage to get out of her that Sam was not one for relationships.  Ever.  But maybe he was changing his tune and that’s why he wanted to keep this person’s identity a secret.

Gabriel hadn’t thought about it like that.

He’d thought about it like he didn’t want the rest of them to know because he was either embarrassed or ashamed.  Well, not ashamed, per se.  Just uncomfortable with the rest of the Company having the knowledge and being able to harass them.

However, Meg’s words of keeping it between them because it meant something _more_ were playing on repeat in his head.

Now, he was more worried about an exit strategy.

They normally had no problem leaving through the front entrance since most people lingered and left at different times through the back.  But with this new development, it was a different story.

Gabriel decided that the texts were his best bet, so he sent:

 _10:05PM  
_ _I’ll head home first and wait for you_

Or he was _going_ to.  Until Charlie grabbed his hand, spun him around and got right up in his business to distract him _after_ he’d sent the message.

“Okay, so!”  She started in, bouncing on her heels, “Do you want to make me a list of what kind of shots you’re looking for in the article so I can focus on those?  Or do you want me to just go nuts and you find the good ones?”

“Oh, uh-” he hadn’t been prepared for this conversation at all and it showed.  “I can let you work your magic.  Or, actually, let me go through my article tomorrow afternoon and I can look for any specific scenes I wrote about for you to focus on.”

“So we do both!”  She clapped her hands together, “I know with photographers in the past, we’ve done staged poses and action poses and I think Crowley will be down for that, too.”

“Great.”  Gabriel gave her a smile, trying not to show how bad he wanted to get the hell out of there.  “Is that at the beginning of dress rehearsals or towards the end?”

“Usually towards the end.  We have an invited guest audience before open, just to get into the swing of things for our donors and that’s one of the times our photographers will be working, but since I’ll be dancing we’ll have to switch up arrangements and do it earlier, I think.”  Charlie crossed her arms, speaking her thoughts aloud.  “We should talk to Crowley about me doing the photos mid-dress week.  So we don’t throw anything off.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“I’m confident I can get it done in one rehearsal.”  She gave him an award winning smile, “And then-”

Charlie was cut short, as Sam nearly plowed them _both_ over, his focus down on his phone and not on the aisle way.

“Shit!”  Gabriel had to dive to keep both dancer’s upright as Charlie yelped and was saved from face-planting on the floor.

Sam was visibly shaken, and word-vomited, “You’re still here?”

Gabriel shot him a look he _prayed to God_ Charlie didn’t see in the midst of the chaos, before casually stating, “Yeah, I’m sure Crowley’s about to yell at me because he wants to shut down.  But Charlie and I were just going over what I want to see in the pictures.  I don’t know if you’ve heard, but she’s doing the photography.”

“O-Oh.  Gotcha.  Well, have a good night, guys.”  He looked between the two before hesitating and continuing his march out through the front.

It was also then Gabriel’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he internally groaned, because he’d bet a hundred bucks Sam was in the middle of texting him ’on my way’ before the pile-up crash.

Charlie was suspiciously silent for a moment.  
  
She slowly looked around the auditorium and then blurted, “I’m sorry!” and reached out to tear at Gabriel’s collar.    
  
Her eyes lit up when she discovered the mark Sam had left on him and exclaimed, “Ah-hah!”

He swatted her away, pulled his collar back into place and narrowed his eyes dangerously, before he threatened, “So you solved your little mystery.  If you tell _anyone else_ -”

“I won’t!”  Charlie squeaked, putting her hands in front of her in a show of surrender.  “Dude, you’ve got mad leverage over me, I just…” she sighed heavily and giggled, “This is _so_ freakin’ cute!  Holy shit, I _never_ would have thought- if _that_ hadn’t just happened, I never would have suspected it was you!”

“Sam’s gonna kill me,” Gabriel grumbled under his breath, “And if this gets out, _I’m_ going to kill _you_.  You keep acting like you’re solving the mystery, deal?”

“Yes, sir!”  She eagerly replied, then with a snide smile added, “So.  That’s why you’re less than thrilled to be talking shop with me right now.  ’Cause you’ve got _that_ waiting at home.”  

Finally, Gabriel gave in - because no one was around and he currently didn’t give a shit.  “Yep.  And every minute you’re keeping me here is another minute I’m not naked with someone even a lesbian admits has an amazing bod.  So why don’t you let me go hit that, and we’ll talk more tomorrow?”

Charlie nodded, her lips pursed in thought, “I can appreciate that.  Okay, text me tomorrow though?  And you go enjoy yourself.”

“I plan on it.”  He scoffed at the ridiculousness of it all and turned his back on Charlie, but not before reminding her, “This conversation never happened.”

“And I’m trying to figure out who Sam’s banging.  I gotcha.”

With that said, even though he was only partially assured - he didn’t care.  He’d been drooling over Sam in his costume all fucking night, he needed to hustle back to his loft and take out some sexual frustration of his _own_.

\-------------

Sam was, indeed, waiting out front of Gabriel’s apartment when he reached it and had him randomly saying, “I should just give you a key.”

“Oh yeah?”  Sam raised an interested eyebrow.  “What if I ransack it while you’re gone?”

“The hell are you going to ransack?”  Gabriel questioned, letting them into the building and heading to the elevator.  “You barely eat, so my fridge is safe.  You can’t fit into any of my clothes.  I guess you could use up all my hair products, but that’s about it.”

“Heh, because that’s _exactly_ what I’d do,” he chuckled out and shook his head.  “Take luxurious showers when you’re not there.  Actually,” he paused to think.  “I totally _would_.  Mine runs out of hot water within seven minutes.  So maybe you should give me a key.”

It was another time Gabriel didn’t know if he was joking or not, but he would do it.

Maybe he’d lay one out tomorrow and see if Sam would take it?

It wasn’t like they were walking on eggshells, Gabriel just never had any idea when Sam was being serious or not.  Whether his flippancy could be taken as truth or apathy.

When the elevator opened up and they were inside the apartment, Gabriel asked, “So on a scale of one to scavengers picking at your bones, how did you-know-what go over?”

“I was surprised, actually,” Sam admitted as he hung up his jacket and took off his shoes.  “Some people were ‘happy for me’ or something.  I guess they think we’re in a relationship.”  Although he let a half-beat of a pause happen, he continued, “Ruby was…I don’t know.  I really had no idea she had those kinds of feelings for me and they never went away.  It was like she was heartbroken or something.”

“Well, that’s bullshit and nothing you have to worry about.”  Gabriel meant it to come out as comforting to Sam, but his voice held annoyance.  “It’s not like you led her on, you know?  Some people are just like that, they convince themselves when they fall for someone, no matter what, that other person is gonna feel the same way.  Or they’ll make them.”

“Yeah, I guess.”  Now Sam studied Gabriel and walked closer to him, like he did when they were alone and he was about to pull him to the bedroom.  But the words, “Have you ever been in love?” came out of his mouth.

If Gabriel was a stronger man, he’d respond, ‘Yep.  Right now.  With you.’

But instead, he shrugged and nodded, “Yeah, I think so.  But it wouldn’t be anything to make me delusional like Ruby.”  That was a happy medium, he decided - but then he had to ask, “Have you?”

Sam stared at him for a while before he formed the words, barely above a whisper, “I don’t know.”

“Sure you do,” Gabriel smacked him on the ass, because he was within reach and he hated that they weren’t closer.  Even though this very well could be their time to talk, now it was _Gabriel_ who was getting cold fucking feet, for the first time.  “If you were, you’d know.”

Slowly, Sam looked up to meet his eyes and asked very seriously, “Why aren’t we in your bedroom?”

“Fuck if I know.”  Gabriel grinned, because now they were getting somewhere.

Plus, Gabriel honestly didn’t know what he’d do if Sam looked at him and told him ‘no, I’ve never been in love.’  Which would mean, ‘no, I’m _not_ in love with _you_.’  And hearing those words spoken out loud would hurt.  So skirting around the truth, one way or the other, was completely acceptable to him.

He grabbed Sam’s hand and hauled him up the staircase and into his room.

This was what they knew.  This was _safe_ , what felt right, and something they didn’t have to worry about when it came to getting their feelings too deeply entangled.

Even though it truly felt like something deeper was slowly becoming part of the equation, more and more, lately.


	8. Chapter 8

As soon as tech week was over and dress rehearsal hit?  Crowley turned into a goddamn _monster_.

Gabriel wouldn’t even call him a monster, _demon_ was a better word.

There were times he had to hold his tongue and stop himself from springing out of the seat from some of the downright terrible shit he’d be screaming at Anna.  Or the way he’d call Meg out and taunt her, because he knew she wanted to fight back but _couldn’t_ because now wasn’t the time or place.

Those were the nights Gabriel really had to be there for Sam.

As a soloist, he got the brunt of Crowley’s rage and he took it as gracefully as he could, even though he was clenching his jaw so hard Gabriel could see the small muscles tensing from the audience.

Gabriel just couldn’t understand why.  From day one, Crowley had told him the level of perfection he sought, and Gabriel could see they’d reached it - so why was this jackass coming to life?

He was thankful for the day Charlie ‘was allowed’ to photograph, because Gabriel hung by her side and was able to chat with her in-between set changes and screaming sessions.

“Why the fuck does he do that?”  Gabriel finally asked her, “And how does he get away with it?”

“It motivates us in different ways, I think,” Charlie shrugged, thumbing through the settings on her camera.  “Some people want to prove him wrong, some people want to do better, others just want him to shut the fuck up.  And I’ve worked with the kind, sweet ADs in the past and I’m not gonna lie…sometimes babying the Company makes them slack a little.  At least he doesn’t have a cane.  I had an instructor growing up that would stomp a cane to keep time, and then smack the backs of our legs when we weren’t in a deep enough plie.  It’s rough.”

“I just hate seeing you guys go through that.”  He grumbled and sat back in his seat.

“You don’t like seeing _Sam_ go through that,” she corrected with a teasing voice. “Just an FYI, I’ve been dancing with him for three years.  And this is the first time I’ve seen him happy.”  She paused and side-eyed Gabriel to make sure he was listening.  “I mean, Sam’s always happy.  He’s our cute little puppy dog, but there’s always been this underlying storm in him that peeks out every once in a while.”  She shrugged and sat back so they were on the same level.  “It’s like you’ve calmed it.”

With a snort, Gabriel shook his head and stated, “I don’t think I’ve calmed anything.”

Charlie waited for something more.  Because she _knew_ there was something more.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and finally gave in.  “He’s hard to read.  I don’t know _what_ we are.  I know what we _do_ , and it’s fan-fuckin-tastic, let me tell you.  But I don’t know if it’s gonna be show over when your curtains close and my article's online.”

“I hope not,”  the woman honestly said.  “And I don’t think it will be.  Now that I know, I notice things.  Even if it’s the little things.  I told you - he’s happy, and he gets so freakin’ excited for rehearsals to be over and now I know why.  Because of your little meet-cutes.”

“Which may end,”  Gabriel reiterated.

“You’re being grumpy.” Charlie realized it all at once in the next sentence, “You’ve totes fallen for him.”

Gabriel’s silence was the only answer she needed.  He didn’t really seem to care what Charlie knew and didn’t know, because it wasn’t like she was going to report it back to Sam.  After all, as far as Sam was concerned, she was still trying to get to the bottom of who gave him the love-bites.

“You _need_ to tell him.”  She grabbed Gabriel’s arm and shook it with a note of finality in her voice.  “You can’t mope around and wait for the worst!”

“I’m not moping around, missy, I’ll have you know every night I’ve been-”

“Ew, don’t need to know any of that!”  Charlie cut him off and made a face, “You need to talk.”

“Sam _doesn’t_ talk.  And when he does, he’s an elusive little fucker.  He’ll either turn the question around, change the topic by being sexy and distracting, or pretend like it never happened.  I literally _can’t_ talk to him, Charlie.”  Gabriel laid it all out, looking her square in her eyes.  “And if that’s not a sign of ‘this was fun while it lasted?’  I don’t know what is.”

She looked dejected and confused at the same time.  “I still think you should talk.”

“Then I’ll look all kinds of desperate.  Like _Ruby_.  You’re missing the point.”

“Dude, he only hooked up with her for a few rando drunk nights.  He’s going home with you sober.  Every single night.  This is night and day different!”  Her voice raised a bit in intensity, just on the side of a harsh whisper. “I think he loves you too.  He just doesn’t know how to say it.  So you have to say it for him, because you can.  You’re friggin _Gabriel_ , you can do whatever the hell you want to do.  So why does telling him you love him scare you if you think you’re gonna lose him anyway?”

Through grit teeth, he snapped, “I wish that wasn’t so fucking _logical_.”

“I know,” Charlie grinned from ear to ear.  “You should do it tonight.  While you’re still fired up.  Or else you’re gonna find a way to talk yourself down.”

Gabriel was taken aback when Charlie helped herself to reach into his jacket and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, “The hell are you-”

“What’s your password?”

“What?”

“Oo, good, it’s one of those fingerprint things,” Charlie grabbed his hand and pushed his digit against it.  “I’m writing the prologue.”

Gabriel tried to snatch the phone away but Charlie was fast.  Come to think about it, he’d never seen anyone type or move as fast as the woman just did with a piece of technology.  The phone was back in his hand in no time.  When he looked down, it was to see ‘he’ had texted Sam.

_Sexy talk before sexy time tonight_

“Are you kidding?!”  Gabriel demanded, glaring daggers, “You can’t just-”

“Oh, I _did_.”  Her eyes were alight with mischief as she explained, “After all, ‘Charlie’ doesn’t know that you two are together, so _no one_ other than _Gabriel_ could have sent that text.  Chin up, I did you a favor.”

Fuck.  She was right.

“I hate you,” he hissed as the lights went down and the next act began.

Charlie wasn’t able to respond because she was back on her feet, moving around the theater to take the photographs.

\---------------

Because of the whole ‘guessing game’ of who Sam was with, they still needed to stagger what time they left.  Which resulted in Gabriel actually giving Sam a key, and he was headed back to the loft first tonight.  Charlie didn’t know this, which made it even more awkward when he was hanging around for the sole reason of waiting.  He made do with the excuse of asking about how her pictures turned out.

She raised an eyebrow and said, “I got some really awesome ones.  I think you’re gonna wanna hire me full time.”  She finished with a wink, but then looked around to make sure they were alone before asking, “Why are you still here?”

“It was Sam’s turn to leave first,” he admitted, because there was no reason to lie to her.  “And now I’m trying to figure out how the hell to explain ‘sexy talk’ right now.”

“You’re not supposed to explain it, you’re gonna talk and if you don’t I’ll…” she growled, trying to come up with something, but ended up with, “Be very disappointed in you.”

“Oh, I’m mortified,”  Gabriel deadpanned and began pulling on his coat.  “What I _am_ actually mortified of doing is talking so, uh.  Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck.”  Charlie gave him a sincere smile.  “You just need to get it out.  You’ll feel better and it won’t be all dark clouds looming anymore.”

Gabriel shook his head and scoffed.  “Send me the good ones.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, _boss_.”  She tacked on the last word with some extra pep.  “Can’t wait for you to see these!”

“Yeah, yeah.”  He gathered his things, and was on his way home in no time.

Unfortunately, the walk wasn’t long enough to get all his thoughts sorted out so he was just going to have to wing it.  But that was something he was good at - he needed to remind himself.  As he entered his home and shut the door behind him, he saw that Sam’s shoes were already in the doorway.

As was a trail of clothing leading up the stairs and into the bedroom.

Fuck.

The dancer had wasted no time getting naked, that was for sure.

And, naturally, the idea of Sam spread out and ready for him in his bed had Gabriel’s cock stirring in anticipation.

Whatever happened to the text?  Did he get it?  Did he think it meant something else entirely?  Was he ignoring it?

There was only one way to find out.

Gabriel followed the trail all the way up to the entrance of his room and leaned in the doorway to see Sam laying on his side, waiting.

“Isn’t this a treat,” Gabriel commented, his eyes raking over every inch of Sam’s naked body, and he couldn’t help the urge to lick his lips.  “How did I get so lucky?”

Sam didn’t bother fighting the smile on his face as he countered with, “Aren’t you going to join me?”

“Did you get my text?”

He had to say it before he lost not only his nerve, but his control over his body.  Because he was two seconds away from straight-up pouncing.

“Yeah.  But tonight sucked.  I don’t want to talk, I want you to fuck me.”  Sam was candid with his words and he rolled onto his back and spread his legs, giving Gabriel an obscene view, “Unless you don’t want to?”

“You know _exactly_ how to play me.”  There was a quiver in his words because he couldn’t resist him - he’d _never_ be able to - and it was frustrating as hell in this moment.

He pulled at his own clothing, the rustling of fabric next to his ears just loud enough that he barely heard Sam’s hushed words of, “I’m not _playing_ you.”

Gabriel snorted, “Really?” without halting his progress.  He was finishing up with his jeans and boxers, bent over from tugging them past his feet, that when he looked up, Sam had suddenly crawled to the edge of the bed.

He didn’t know why he was there or really care so he grabbed a fistful of Sam’s hair and his shoulder to shove him back down and kiss his breathless.  Sam wasn’t as eager to return the kisses as Gabriel thought he would be, which was equally frustrating.

Sam ducked his head away and grabbed Gabriel’s face.  

With his brows furrowed, he asked, “You think I’m playing you?”

“You were the one who made it _abundantly_ clear you don’t want to talk.”  Gabriel tried to keep his voice even or else irritation was going to leak through.  “I was there, you had a rough night.  I’ll make it better for you, like I always do.”

He hadn’t meant to add the last part, he even winced after he came out of his mouth.

“Gabe, what’s wrong?”  Sam wouldn’t pull his intense gaze away, like he was worried, like he was -

“Goddammit.”  He couldn’t take it anymore, Gabriel had to be the one to physically rip himself from Sam’s grip, sit on the edge of the bed and stare out the window.  “I was thinking too much today.  Got myself psyched up to talk, should have known you wouldn’t want to.  Let’s just start over.  We’re both naked, you’re fucking gorgeous, let’s go in that direction.”

A silence stretched between them.  Instead of words, Sam draped his arms over Gabriel’s shoulders from behind.  He pressed his warm torso against Gabriel’s back and gently kissed his neck.

Gabriel was able to close his eyes and focus on the gentle touches.  

They grounded him, the sensation was inviting but then Sam whispered into his ear, “What did you want to talk about?”

He physically and mentally deflated, but Sam wouldn’t let him.  He held Gabriel tighter, mouthed at his shoulder and waited.  Why not just go for it, right?

“Us,” Gabriel finally blurted.  “I wanted to talk about us.  If there is one.  If there’s gonna keep being one.  Because I don’t wanna lose this.  I don’t want this to be an easy thing because we’re working together with the ballet.  I want it go keep going way after the ballet.  And since I’m on a roll, _fuck it_ , I’m in love with you, Sam.  There we go!  That’s what I wanted to talk about.  Bet you’re pretty pissed you gave me the chance to say my piece, huh.”

Sam’s caressing movements were jarred and fumbled for a few seconds, but they picked back up as the words began sinking in.

And… he didn’t pull away.

His arms wrapped around Gabriel and he held him there, letting out a deep breath.

“I’m-” Sam began slowly, “I’m really bad at these things.”

Gabriel already knew that.  He’d thrown his heart out there, and there wasn’t much for the reporter to say.  But at least it sounded like Sam wasn’t finished, so he waited.

“I don’t want this to be it either.”  His voice was a whisper as he rested his chin over Gabriel’s shoulder, holding the man tighter in his arms.  “I guess this is kind of the closest thing to a relationship I’ve had.  Which is why it kind of scares me.”

Gabriel reached up and gripped Sam’s forearm in reassurance, “There’s nothing to be scared of, kiddo.  Fuck, I was _terrified_ to tell you.  And it’s not like I’m the best role model when it comes to relationships, but all I know is that I’ve never wanted one so bad with anyone else.”  He paused and slowly began caressing Sam’s arm.  “What are you afraid of?”

“Heh,” he shook his head, breath tickling along Gabriel’s neck.  “That you’re some famous jet-setter and I’m posted at home.  That you’ll find something better and leave me behind.  Everyone knows who you are, hell, even _I_ did before they announced you were writing the article.  I’m scared you’ll find someone else to do this same thing with… someone who’s not me.”

“Then you’re crazy.”  The words were out of his mouth before he could filter them.  “There’s no one like you.  No one better than you.  And I’m almost positive the words freak you out, because I know you, but I mean it when I say I love you.  I’m not expecting it back.  Just want to lay it all out there.”

There was another span of silence, but their light touch never slowed - Sam even kissed his neck before he finally asked, “Why?”

“Why do I love you?”  Gabriel raised an eyebrow, even though the dancer couldn’t see him - since he was still facing the window.  “Ya want a friggin _list_?”

“I’m being serious.”  There was a sadness in his voice that could break Gabriel’s heart.    
  
It told him that Sam was genuinely confused as to why anyone would love him.

“Because you’re smart.  You’re talented.  You’re adorable as hell and sassy, even though you’re a high-level risk to all my belongings.  You’re honest and you care about people, even though you need to work on caring about yourself.  You’re disciplined and give everything your all, even if it’s not exactly what you want to be doing.  You’re a fighter, Sammy.  You’re one of the strongest people I know, and that’s saying something.”  Gabriel lifted Sam's hand to kiss his knuckles, “Not to mention you’re hot as fuck and the sex is amazing.  There’s that bonus, too.”

Up until now, Sam had remained unphased but the kind words freely flowing from Gabriel’s mouth caused him to freeze and lock up.  Which did _and_ didn’t surprise Gabriel.  He knew Sam had a hard time with compliments, but he was hoping he’d just take them - rather than allow them to drag him into being a deer in the headlights.

Maybe now was the time to turn around.

Gabriel did so, slowly, to see Sam's eyes downcast on the blankets with a look of confusion on his face.  So Gabriel gently pushed him down and laid out alongside him.

“Did I break you?” he asked, kissing Sam’s brow.

When he finally glanced up to meet Gabriel’s eyes, his confusion turned into concern and his voice was barely above a whisper when he said, “No one’s said those things.”

“Well, they’re true.  And everyone else is a dumbass, if they haven’t.”  Gabriel was assertive with his words as well as holding steady on their eye contact.  “I don‘t care whether you believe ‘em or not, because _I_ do.  So looking at it from my end alone, do you get why I love you?”

Gabriel never expected Sam to shove him over and pin him to the bed, kissing the living hell out of him.  But he didn’t mind it one bit.  He surged upward into the kisses as Sam’s tongue immediately licked into his mouth and his hands were tangled in his hair.  It was a head rush, because everything was happening too fast, with so much intensity, there was barely space to breathe.

It wasn’t possible, but it felt like every kiss topped the last in terms of electricity and passion.  It was fucking amazing.

He had a feeling this was Sam’s way of responding to his words, because the dancer was better at expressing himself with his body.  He’d always been that way, as long as Gabriel had known him.  But right now?  This was one hell of a response.

There was less than a handful of times Sam had kissed him like this, and they paled in comparison to what he was giving him now.  And those had previously been in the heat of passion, not the _beginning_ , but as Sam rolled his hips and Gabriel felt how hard he was, they both knew it was headed there - and fast.

It pulled a moan from Gabriel’s throat, which Sam ducked down to suck along the column, while he demanded, “Gabe, lube.”

He knew Sam couldn’t see him nod, but he was speechless and breathless in that moment, as the dancer continued nipping and licking down his body.  Gabriel barely managed to shift and reach the drawer to his nightstand to grab the bottle before Sam’s mouth reached his cock.  And promptly took it down his throat.

“Fuck!”  Gabriel swore and arched into the heat, having been caught off guard  _again_.

His eyes shot down and were met with Sam’s haughty gaze as he took Gabriel’s dick into his hand and kitten licked the entire length.  Gabriel couldn’t take his eyes off the sight, Sam knew exactly what he did to him and he wasn’t holding back.  He continued to swirl his tongue around the thick head as he reached out his free palm.

Gabriel had completely forgotten what Sam had asked for, but found he still was, indeed, holding the bottle.  Which he eagerly gave him.

Sam sucked Gabriel down all the way one more (heavenly) time before he pulled off completely.

With rapt attention, Gabriel watched Sam squeeze the lube from the bottle and immediately coat Gabriel’s cock.

To tease him further, he jerked him with a loose fist and sinfully stated, “I’m gonna ride you.”

Knowing Sam would refuse any prep, Gabriel decided to go another route and teased, “Hop on, cowboy.”

Sam chuckled lightly before he threw the lube aside and crawled up Gabriel’s body.  He swung a leg over so he was straddling his hips, but before he made another move he dipped forward.

Gabriel’s chin was jutting out to meet him, mouth open and eyes closed, but Sam’s voice was beside his ear.  Which he hadn't been expecting.  What was even more surprising, were his words.

He could feel Sam’s hips swivel, the tip of his cock catching at Sam’s hole, and while he’d normally be holding his breath for this - it wasn’t the case.

Because Sam whispered, “I-I think I do, too-” right before he began sliding down, taking Gabriel’s cock inch by inch.

There was nothing that could keep Gabriel’s arms at his sides, they were latching onto Sam and crashing their mouths back together.  Sam slammed himself the rest of the way down, until he was fully seated and Gabriel’s dick was buried inside him - the dancer felt a little bit of burn mixed in with the pleasure.

But that was the whole point.  Sam wanted to _feel_.  He wanted all these things and more.

Even from the angle, and the way Gabriel wasn’t letting him go, Sam's long length of his torso gave him more than enough room to raise his hips almost completely off, and teasingly clench his muscles on the way back down.  Gabriel gasped at the grip around his cock, and it was almost impossible to concentrate on anything else.

But his goddamn heart was beating out of his chest - physically and metaphorically - and he didn’t know which way was up.  So when Sam made the move to pull away, he let him.  Because Sam was confident tonight and he wanted Gabriel to watch.

He had no problem doing so.

Because after everything that had been said?

This gorgeous man, fucking himself over and over on his cock, could very well _be his_.

A wave of possession, in addition to the proclamations of love and overwhelming pleasure, made for a strange mix in his gut - but it didn’t matter.

Sam was beautiful.

He was covered in sweat as he moved and didn’t pull any punches.

He was leaning back slightly to give Gabriel a show - so he could watch each and every time his dick slid into Sam’s body.  The intensity, his sheer athleticism was overpowering and Gabriel was just along for the ride.

Sam was in complete control - there was nothing Gabriel could do, and something about that was ridiculously alluring.

The only thing within his power was to fill the room was moans, with affirmations of how fucking perfect Sam felt wrapped around his cock, about how he was so close and was going to fill that tight ass with his cum.

He knew Sam was close too, because he picked up the pace.  He pitched forward and braced his arms on the bed while he continued to ride Gabriel’s cock faster and harder than before.

It was the change in intensity that caused Gabriel to completely lose it.  He wanted to reach out and grab Sam, to kiss him, but the dancer was determined and so close to coming on his dick alone.  He shouted Sam’s name, and grabbed the sheets instead of him, feeling the rush of his orgasm and the pulse of his cum spilling into Sam.

He was breathing heavy, almost glad he’d got off first, because when he watched Sam cum - it was a beautiful sight.  The dancer arched his spine and threw his head back, grinding and swiveling on Gabriel’s cock while he painted his body.  When he finally hunched over and their eyes met, it was filled with affection and - yes, Gabriel saw _love_ there.

He didn’t waste another moment as he grabbed Sam’s face and kissed the hell out of him.  Both in reverie and gratitude that he was giving _them_ a chance.  Because that’s what this all felt like.

Sam followed his lead, even though he wasn’t quite sure what he was following - but he approved of the attention, regardless.  In fact, he preened under it, so Gabriel made sure to keep his intentions true - he wanted to show Sam just what he meant to him in a language he understood.  Gabriel showed Sam with his actions, since words sometimes failed the dancer.

It was perfect.

Everything about it was perfect, and Gabriel never wanted it to end.

He’d have to thank Charlie in the morning.


	9. Chapter 9

Five days.

It was five days until the show opened and Gabriel was working overtime on his article.

The best part of being a blogger, rather than a print journalist, was making his piece interactive.

He had all his ducks in a row, he just needed a few more... _tid-bits_ he knew he’d be able to get from rehearsal tonight.

Gabriel had made all the calls, he had set many additional things up - just in case - and depending on how this went down he had contingency plans.  Yeah, he knew he was riding on that thin-line again with this piece, but he’d be able to finish by tomorrow.  Get Abby the completed work and he’d have the okay to post what he wanted _or_ the backup - which still wasn’t too bad.  It just wasn’t what he really _wanted_.

Gabriel was soaring high, ever since Sam and he had talked everything out.  Things had gone over better than he could have ever imagined, hell, he didn’t think anything would ‘go over’ at _all_ , given the dancer’s penchant for avoiding conversation, but they were good.  Hell, they were fucking great, and Gabriel couldn’t be happier.

But now he was all protective when Crowley yelled at Sam during rehearsals.  In the ‘don’t talk about my babe like that’ way, and he needed to reign it in.

They decided they weren’t going to 'come out' until this production was finished.

After all, there were too many sticky problems that could arise from people knowing about it too soon. Being accused of showing favoritism, Ruby’s possible breakdown, or general annoyance from the population they didn’t need before the curtain rose.  Gabriel understood well, which was why he didn’t have a problem with Sam’s choice.  
  
It was his choice too, when they had the conversation.

Leading up to opening night was bittersweet, in a way.  
  
It wasn’t _only_ Sam he’d grown close to in Abby's, quote, "punishment" of an article. He’d consider both Meg and Charlie pretty damn good friends.  However, knowing both their schedules and the tedious work that went into their jobs, he knew deep down he’d probably rarely see them again.  Which was why it was a bit of a shock he and Sam had worked out.  But Gabriel wasn’t sure he could go back to a life without the dancer in it.

While he could always text Meg and Charlie, not having Sam to warm his bed every night and knocking over his furniture every day wasn’t an option.  He was man enough to admit it would probably leave him heartbroken.

And that wouldn’t do.

When he got a new notification in his inbox, he took a deep breath to see it was from Abaddon.  While he’d normally be clicking into it instantly, he was nervous.  He shouldn’t be.  He’d done his work, it was completed, but this assignment was close to his heart.  Fuck, he was being a child.

Gabriel finally clicked the link and his eyes widened to see Abby had _approved it_.

She said Gabriel was walking a fine line once more, but it was _his_ to walk - and the article would garner attention, as well as bring an audience (maybe even a _brand new_ audience) to the ballet.  Which was the whole damn point.  She even gave him kudos (in her own way) with a, “I knew I hired you for a reason.  Even though you’re a fucking pain in my ass.”

The only stipulation was that he gathered all the interactive attachments he gave a brief blurb about in parenthesis, and send her those by tomorrow.

He felt an internal victory, grabbed the tools he’d need, and packed them into his messenger bag for tonight.  Hell yeah, he’d get what he needed, and his article was going to kick ass and _then_ some.

While he had a few concerns, he’d made sure the concerns had solutions ahead of time.  Gabriel was bound and determined to get this online.  Now, there was nothing in the way to stop him.

\-------------

Gabriel was waiting for Charlie to finish wiping off her stage make-up and get back into her street clothes in the audience.  That was the worst part about dress rehearsals - the fact that it took so damn long for the cast to get ready, and then un-ready.  He needed to chat with the redhead, Sam was the one heading home first tonight and Gabriel caught a glimpse of him leaving through the side door.

They caught each other’s eyes for a split second and smiled, no one else could see them, before the dancer was out the door.

He’d sent a text to Charlie that he was waiting for her, so she better not have ditched him.

Gabriel was sitting on the edge of the stage, kicking his feet above the orchestra pit, when she finally came through the side curtains and sat down next to him.

“What’s up, Gabe?”

He handed over an envelope with a smile, “Article’s being posted tomorrow.  Here’s your paycheck for all your hard work.”

“You did use my stuff?”  Her eyes widened almost as huge as her grin, and she unceremoniously opened the envelope and stared at the number, “Holy fuck!  Is this what freelancers get paid?!”

“Depends on who they’re working with,” Gabriel winked at her.  “Not to brag, but I’m pretty high up on the totem pole.  So you’re gonna get mad press for your pics.  Hell, it’s good publicity, if you’re really looking to use photography as a side job.  If you ever need a reference, you can write my info down and I’ll tell ‘em what a dream you are to work with.”  Then he paused thoughtfully, “Even though you _are_ a sneaky pain in my ass, I’ll lie just for you.”

She lunged at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Thank you so much!  If you ever need someone, _ever_ , call me!  Not just because I love the numbers on this check but because I love you!”

“Careful, I’m taken.”  He poked her in the side with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

She pulled away with the sharp intake of air, “It worked?!  You talked?!”

“Yep.”  Gabriel returned to kicking his feet.  “It’s official.  Well, once the show’s over, it will be.  Just no wrench throwing until after.”

“Hell yes!”  Charlie cheered. “I’m a matchmaking extraordinaire!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he heavily rolled his eyes.  “Are you excited about opening night?”

“It’s the best!  The adrenaline, the audience, I’m pretty sure we’re close to selling out and hopefully your article will help.  How did that go, by the way?”  She tilted her head and watched him.

“It went great.  It’s gonna be a little provocative.  Not gonna lie.  But it’ll bring people in.”  Gabriel knew, out of anyone, he could trust Charlie with the news.  “Just make sure no one gets huffy with me _until_ they talk to me, all right?”

“Okay…” Charlie drew out the word, “That’s not foreshadowing, or anything.”

“You’ll get it when you read it.”  He patted her on the back, “Now, I’ve got a boyfriend to get home to.  Don’t spend that all in one place!”

“Don’t think I could if I tried.”  She shook her head and giggled, “Have a good night with that boyfriend of yours.”

“I won’t have any problems in that department.”  He scooted around and then hopped down to the carpeted floor while he waved her off.  “Can’t wait to see the performance tomorrow!  Break a leg if I don’t talk to you before then!”

“Dancers say ‘merde!’” she called after him.

“Huh?”  Gabriel did a double-take.  “What’s that?”

“It’s French for ‘shit.’  Same concept as break a leg, but we wish each other ‘merde’ instead.  I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”  Charlie teased, “There, now you’re practically one of us.”

“Good to know,” Gabriel nodded with a grin.  “You guys are way cooler than those theater dorks.”

“Duh.”

\-------------

There was a skip in his step when Gabriel reached the door to his loft and unlocked the door.  However, Sam wasn’t there to shove him into a wall like he did when rehearsals were tough, there was no trail of clothes - but there was a light on upstairs.

Gabriel trekked upward and noticed the light wasn’t from the bedroom, it was coming from the bathroom.  The shower just turned off when he rounded the corner, and he honestly wasn’t sure what to do with himself.  So he decided to walk his things to his office and unload his belongings while he waited for Sam to emerge.

When the dancer did, he was wearing a pair of pajamas (he practically had an entire wardrobe left at the loft by now) with towel dried hair and smiled once he caught sight of Gabriel.

“Hey,” he greeted warmly.  “I was gross and sweaty.  Hope you don’t mind I helped myself.”

“Not at all.”  Gabriel crossed the room and trailed his hands down Sam’s muscled torso. “I enjoy the half naked eye candy.”

With a laugh, Sam ducked down and kissed Gabriel.

But the kiss surprised the reporter.  It wasn’t instigating or needy.  It was sweet and tender.  As were the arms that wrapped around his neck that held them together.  Everything about Sam’s touch, the way he caressed Gabriel’s back and ran his fingers through his hair - it was loving, it wasn’t sexual in the least.

It was a pleasant surprise.  Sam was able and comfortable enough to let this side of him show.  He felt at ease with the other man, so much that he didn’t need to push for sex immediately upon every touch when they greeted each other.  Even though it would have been easy - just one yank at Sam’s flannel pants and he could have the dancer bent over and begging.

This was intimate in a whole new way.

So Gabriel tried something.

“I’m gonna get changed,” he whispered while his cheek brushed against Sam’s, and the man released him easily.

“Can I help?”  There was a mischievous smile on his face that he corrected in an attempt to look innocent, but Gabriel knew Sam better than that.

“Of course.”  He chuckled and shook his head while Sam pulled the shirt from where it’d been tucked in his pants.

He worked slowly and carefully with each button, kissing Gabriel whenever he felt like it, and soon pushed it off Gabriel’s shoulders.  He tugged off his undershirt before kissing down his torso.  Yet, once again, it was almost doting.  It wasn’t blatantly sexual.

Sam was taking his time.  Unfastening the belt, unbuttoning his pants, and stopping every so often to stroke tenderly along Gabriel’s sides.  The contact had Gabriel sighing contentedly, not moaning.  Sam’s hands were still warm from the shower and felt amazing against his naked skin in the chill of the room.

Then, Sam surprised him another time.

He stood up and moved to Gabriel’s drawers and opened the one he knew the man kept his boxers in.  Sam knew if they didn’t sleep naked - that’s what he preferred.  He pulled out a fresh pair of comfortable, worn ones and took it a step further to _dress_ him.

Gabriel’s head was tilted with interest as Sam kissed back up his body and stopped at his lips.  He grabbed Gabriel’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and pulled him towards the bed.

He followed the dancer, who pulled back the sheets and then tugged Gabriel to follow him under the covers.  Once they were both laying on the mattress, Sam pulled the linens snugly around them and wrapped his arms around Gabriel, humming happily.

Gabriel eagerly collected Sam in his arms and pulled him closer, realizing that tonight?  They had gotten to the point where they didn’t _need_ sex to be together anymore.  Which was strangely a huge step.

He couldn’t keep his mouth to himself.  Gabriel had to turn his head so he was facing Sam and kissed him with the same intention and sweetness that he’d been shown earlier.  Sam went willingly, raising his palm to cup Gabriel’s cheek, and teased him with his tongue.  Gabriel couldn’t help smiling into the kiss, and it was Sam’s yawn (quite a while after) that broke them apart.

“Sorry,” he sighed, and then yawned again. “Long day.”

“I know,” Gabriel grazed his fingers down the length of Sam’s neck, while sleepy, happy eyes stared at him.  “You get some sleep, kid.  When do you want me to set the alarm?”

“The usual is fine,” Sam leaned into the touch, even though his eyes were heavy.  “Just… yeah…”

Gabriel couldn’t help himself from kissing him on the forehead and whispering, “God, I love you.”

Sam was nodding off to sleep, but the smile on his face was undeniable and he reached out to pull Gabriel back to him.

They fell asleep tangled together, without the precursor of sex for the first time in their entire relationship.  Gabriel knew it meant something, it meant something huge and his fucking heart was beating double time until he eventually fell asleep, engulfed in Sam’s warmth.

   

* * *

 

  
In A Nutshell  
_Presents_  
  
**How Do You Like _These_ Tutus?**

  
Once upon a time, there lived a land of hope and shattered dreams by the name of New York.  If you’re a performer and want to make the big time, whether an actor, a singer or a dancer - New York is the place to be.  Now - a lot of people immediately associate New York City with Broadway, when they should be thinking about all the dance companies that reside here as well.

Today, I’m bringing you behind the scenes and a look-see of the famous _Swan Lake_ performed by the best of the best: _The New York City Ballet_.

Now, right there, ladies and gentleman - is the coveted spot in all young ballerinas hearts.

Auditioning and being cast means you’re filet mignon, the A-Team, you’re Superman without Kryptonite to hold you back.  You think I’m joking?  I’m not.

But there are many prices you pay to get there, to stay there, and, hell, some people are so talented but discriminated against because of body type, this isn’t even their first choice.  How do you like them tutus?  (Hah!  See what I did there?)   
  
The dance world is a cold, hard, bitch - and if I hadn’t been lucky enough to hang out with this amazing cast during the rehearsal process, right up until curtain - I would have had no idea about any of it.

Everyone knows dancers are disciplined.  From an early age, they slave away perfecting their technique, their sharp brains to learn choreography with a snap of an instructor’s fingers, and carve their bodies into lean, mean, tiny machines.  No, you may not have a burger, have a cigarette instead.  Because that’s going to go straight to your left butt cheek and your leotard may not fit right.

In fact, it’s encouraged: * _insert soundbite of Crowley yelling at Meg_ *

Now, here we have the lovely voice of the NYCB's Artistic Director, a gem of a man by the name of Fergus MacLeod.  Who should be giving the dancers love and encouragement.  Yet, he's shouting at one of the leads: Miss Meg Masters - who dances the part of Odile during the first leg of Swan Lake - that he won’t have ‘obese heifers’ in his production.

Interestingly enough, I got to know Masters quite well during the process and consider her a friend.  She’s spoken freely to both myself and other media outlets about her struggle with bulimia while she was just a youth.    
  
She’s in recovery and this sassy little thing has no problem telling it like it is. “Bulimia sucks.  And it begins with assholes planting the idea in your head that you’re not good enough.  Then you start to believe them and even though their words aren’t true, you can’t escape what you’ve already convinced yourself of.”  Masters goes on to explain, “It’s something very real in the ballet world.  You have to fit a ridiculously specific mold, you have to look like the beautiful, graceful drone, dance like a beautiful, graceful drone with the body of one.”

Now, tell me - does Miss Masters look like a heifer?

[ _Solo photograph dancing Odile_ ]

If that’s what a heifer looks like, I think I’ve developed a new kink (just kidding, say no to bestiality, kids).

When asked if this was a common occurrence across the performance spectrum, Masters’ answer was interesting.  “Modern dance is a lot more forgiving than ballet.  If you’re a ballerina you have a short shelf-life, even though they’re trying to be PC and extend it these days.  Modern Companies also give you more wiggle room when it comes to body types, and especially race.  Misty Copeland was the first African American soloist for ABT (American Ballet Theater) for the first time in over twenty years, which is our biggest rival.  Modern Companies hire good dancers, not who will blend in with the Company on stage.”

While this is mostly true, it isn’t.

Take, for example, our gorgeous leading man: Sam Winchester.

[ _Solo photograph dancing Prince Siegfried_ ]

At an astounding 6’4”, not only is Winchester the tallest soloist NYBC has cast, that’s what he is.  

A soloist.

Due to his height, he’s been turned away from Modern Companies because he’d ‘distract from the unified aesthetic pieces’ and his body has been type-cast into leading roles.  While that may be fine and dandy for those who dream of Snowflakes and Sugar Plum Fairies every Christmas, those who have dreams of being Contemporary or Modern Dancers might feel differently.

[ _Insert solo video performance dancing Siegfried_ ]

Now (besides checking out that booty) what did you see in that video?

Damn near _everyone_ in the dance world would call it technical perfection, amazing stage presence and spot-on performing.

But, apparently, Modern Companies have a rule about being ‘too tall to ride this ride,’ crushing Winchester’s true aspirations.

When did the actual world of dance decide discrimination was more important than having the best cast they could audition?  Oh yeah.  Since the beginning of time.  Which is why dancers, like Winchester, have to rely on selling out to shows such as ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ because America doesn’t discriminate based on bullshit things such as height.  And they’d vote for that tall glass of water because he’s an amazing dancer.

Moral of the story, even though their Artistic Director is a muttonhead - here’s another little treat: *insert soundbite yelling at cast* - this group of dancers are _rockstars_ of the ballet world.

Whether you’re a dance enthusiast or want to check out some ballet for the first time, this is the perfect icebreaker.

I’m not bullshitting, either.

I was actually given this article to write on a 'probationary period' because of my last debacle, but what I found surprised the heck out of me.

The athleticism, the dynamics between the characters and the flawless and stunning work of the ensemble was _not_ something I expected to take my breath away.  
  
But it did.    
  
So don’t think you’re 'too cool' for ballet, like I did.  Check these teasers out, if you’re not convinced:

[ _Cast action photo_ ] --> View More In Gallery

Seeing this amazing show will surprise you, it will educate you and inspire you.

Not to mention, you’ll look really classy asking a chick "out to the ballet” and clean up nice and dapper in a suit.  Trust me on this, you’ll _totally_ get laid.

There’s literally no reason for you not to get your tickets.  So click the link at the bottom and reserve your seats for this awesome performance of _Swan Lake!_   You know I’ll be there.

Signing out, bitches.  
  
  
_Gabriel  
The Nutcracker_


	10. Chapter 10

There was a cubic-fuck ton of things that happened when the article went live.

The good, the bad, the possibly _terrible_.

There was praise that Gabriel was back in action after his last stunt, and his fans were surprised he was able to get away with following up with _this_ article.

Charlie texted him and thanked him for linking her photos in the article to her Instagram because she was getting bombarded by followers.  But.  Crowley had called a cast meeting a full hour before the usual call.  Which couldn’t mean anything good.

The site was getting slammed in the way of PR.  Support groups were asking how to get a hold of Meg Masters to guest speak at their studios about self-image, bulimia and overcoming it.  There was a petition that began on Tumblr trying to get Crowley fired as the Artistic Director.  And Sam’s ass was currently _globally_ trending on Twitter.

Oh, and the rest of the NYCB’s performances of Swan Lake had been completely sold out.

Gabriel was nervous.  He knew he probably should have given his friends the heads up about what he was posting, but he was going to do it - regardless of their feedback.  The public needed to know the truth and Gabriel happened to have balls of steel when it came to that kind of thing.  No one was going to talk him down, so he didn't want to give _anyone_ the opportunity.

Currently, he was texting and calling Sam, but all types of communication were being ignored.

So he’d mentioned the fact Sam had wanted to be a Modern dancer when that was kind-of-almost-barely in confidence.  Surely other people knew that...right?  Hell, the kid went to school for it!  He literally got his degree at a University that specializes in Modern dance, in Dance Performance and Choreography.  You didn’t have to do much digging to put two and two together!

Gabriel was pacing.  Call was usually two hours before curtain and Crowley had called a meeting an hour before that.

Right now, Gabriel was ready for anything.  Looking at the clock, they were fifteen minutes into their meeting, and it couldn’t possibly last the entire hour, right?  Okay, he was grasping at straws, waiting for his phone to light up, waiting for _something_ because he was on goddamn pins and needles.

He was dressed up in his opening night tuxedo, Abaddon was to be his ‘date’ tonight, but they were meeting at the theater.  In two hours and thirteen minutes.

Gabriel was fucking ready to sprint as soon as Sam or Charlie texted him.  God, he needed to find out what the fuck was going on.

Right around the half hour mark, Charlie finally messaged him to meet her at a corner coffee shop near the theater.  Apparently, they needed to talk.   _Now_.

They’d have a chunk of time before the actual call was scheduled.  And Gabriel needed answers, just as badly as Charlie apparently needed to talk.

While he walked, he continued to dial Sam’s number - but instead of ringing as it had before, it began going straight to voicemail.   _Fuck_.  This was not okay.

He’d been power walking without knowing it, because soon he was turning the corner a block before the theater and he was mere steps away from the coffee shop.  When he stepped through the doors, the redhead wasn’t difficult to spot, even if she was hidden in the corner.  She had a drink in her hand and had taken it upon herself to get Gabriel one as well - because there was another cup sitting in front of the chair across from her.

Charlie had her expression schooled into something strangely neutral, which didn’t mean anything good, when Gabriel took the seat across from her.

“Did you run, or something?”  She asked with little humor in her voice.

“Basically.  Sam’s not answering his phone, I haven’t been able to get a hold of him all fuckin' day, and you telling me about this meeting freaked me the hell out.  What’s going on, Char?”  So what, if he was wearing his emotions on his sleeve and there was a bit of nervousness to his tone?

“Yeah.”  Charlie cleared her throat.  “About all that.”

Gabriel watched as she set her drink down and took in a deep breath.

“Crowley was _livid_.  Like, I could see the devil horns on his head, breathing fire, kind of livid.  I’ve never seen him go on a rampage like this, screaming and shouting at us and at anyone that befriended you.”

“I’m sorry, I knew Crowley would blow up and I’m sorry he took it out on you, but he needed to be exposed and-”

“ _Dude_.  He fired Meg and Sam.  After Swan Lake closes?  They’re done-zo with the Company.  I quit on the spot too, because it was bullshit.  Meg told him he was an assclown and she was sick of his shit anyway, but that’s because _she can_.  Hell, _any_ Company will hire her in a second.  Sam?  I don’t know what kind of luck he’s gonna have.”  She chewed her bottom lip.  “Or _me_ , to tell you the truth.  Sure, I’ll get some good press on the second leg as a lead, but I’m gonna have to start looking into auditions again.  Or hopefully the good press you got me will help jump-start my photography career, but who knows.”

Gabriel was speechless.

Because the words ‘Sam was fired’ were echoing over and over in his head.

He didn’t think Crowley would take it that far, but he-

“I’m sorry, dude, that’s all I can tell you.  I’ve gotta go get ready but figured you needed the scoop.  And, uh.  Sam didn’t handle it well.  After the meeting, he flipped the fuck out.  I don’t think…” She let the words hang in the air as she stood up.

“No, I _have_ to talk to him, I have to _explain-_ ”

“He’s not gonna talk to you.”  There was sorrow written on her face.  “I really _am_ sorry.”

Gabriel flew to his feet and followed her out, nearly shouting, “No, Charlie, you don’t understand, I can _fix this_ , he’s going to be fine, I just need to talk to him.  Please, help me out here?  Just get him to listen to me and I _swear_ everything is going to be all right-”

She stopped in her tracks and turned around to face him.  “Gabriel.  As your friend, I’ve gotta be blunt.  I _know_ Sam.  I’ve worked with him for three years and after what I saw?  Let this go.  There’s…no fixing it.”

“ _Yes_ , there _is_!”

“I know you’re gonna be there tonight for the show, and I hope you enjoy it.”  She faked a smile, as a clear sign of ‘we’re done, you can fuck off now.’  “Please, for all of us, don’t make a scene.”

Gabriel completely deflated as she walked away, knowing he couldn’t bother her anymore.  Charlie didn't deserve it, after what she'd just been through.

Shit.

He changed his direction, running back to his loft because he had phone calls to make, because he couldn’t have predicted this.  This wasn’t in his contingency plans, whatsoever.  Fucking Crowley was such a piece of shit, he wanted to get his hands around the man’s throat and choke the life from him.

If only it was that easy.

\-----------------

Even though the walk to the theater was one he made every day, Abaddon still sent a car for him.  Gabriel was sweating bullets, he had to down a couple shots to calm himself before he even got in the car.  Maybe he should have changed into a different suit…no, fuck it.  He’d done all the work he could before they were due to be at the performance.

Abby met him in the lobby, looking as gorgeous as ever.  Still, even Gabriel had to admit she looked stunning dressed up in an elegant black, curve-hugging evening gown with her hair in loose curls and her make-up spot-on.

She raised an eyebrow the minute she saw him.  “What’s wrong with you?  Didn’t you get the stats I sent you about the article?  You should be fucking _ecstatic_ right now, not pouting.”

“I got some of the dancers fired.”  He said without hesitation.

“Oh.”  She tossed her hair over her shoulder.  “That’s unfortunate.  Well, at least you’ve educated the masses and did it tactlessly.  Just what I’ve come to expect from you.  They’ll find other jobs, if they’re as good as you raved about.”

“You really are heartless.”  Gabriel narrowed his eyes as the lights began to flicker, indicating they needed to take their seats.

“How else do you think our blog became so famous?”  She smirked and looped her arm through Gabriel’s as the usher lead them to their seats.  “Now, cheer up.  You sold out this show tonight, remember you did _something_ good.  There.  How’s that for optimism?”

As they sat down, Gabriel huffed, “For you, that was wondrous.”

“I know.”  She opened her program and glanced over it before the house lights dimmed.  “I hope this isn’t boring.”

The reporter looked patronizingly at his boss, but then back to the stage because his heart was in his throat and aching for his friends.  For Sam.

How could you dance a ballet knowing this was the last show you’d be dancing with the company?  How could Crowley even rub it in their faces like this?  It was fucking _cruel_ , was what it was.  However, as the show went on, Gabriel caught a glimpse of just how professional they truly were.  You’d never know these leads were just cut from the team.

There wasn’t a single falter, a single step out of place, and they were wearing their best masks and putting their proverbial best foot forward.

Gabriel hurt watching it.

He hurt for Sam and himself.

Devising a plan to try to get Sam to listen to him was his only priority right now.  He barely heard Abby’s commentary while they were watching.  He hoped he nodded and chuckled at the right moments, because right now he was somewhere totally different.  He was watching Sam, seat near the same place he was seated every rehearsal.

Did the dancer feel Gabriel’s eyes on him?

Did he hate him?

Gabriel would hate himself.

Which was why they needed to talk.

And he could only come up with one plan.

Which might be tricky, but there was no other way.  He _couldn’t_ lose Sam, he _had_ to make this work, Gabriel had to make him listen to reason and explain his actions.  He was both anticipating and dreading the end of the show.  But once the cast came out for curtain call and they received a standing ovation (and a whispered compliment from the never-impressed Abaddon) Gabriel needed to act fast.

He needed to move while they were still on stage.

“Hey, I’ll see you Monday.”  He told Abby, who looked at him curiously, but let him pass.  “There's something I gotta do.”

\------------------

When Sam walked off the stage, the fake smile pasted on his face immediately melted and he was back to his broken, dejected and shattered state.  He didn’t talk to anyone after curtain call, and everyone knew not to talk to him.  After opening nights, they were required to head out into the audience in their formal wear and speak with some of the donors.

All the leads were given their own dressing rooms backstage, so he had about fifteen minutes of solitude to wipe the stage make up off his skin, get into his suit, take in his deep breaths and plaster his smile back on before he had to mingle.  It wasn’t enough.  It had been hit after hit and he wanted to bury himself in a hole and never come out.

He turned the handle to the door and when he opened it, he completely froze.

Because Gabriel was inside, staring him down, and the reporter was the last person on Earth he wanted to see.

Gabriel took advantage of his stupor, grabbed him by the collar, hauled him in and shut the door behind them.

“Sam, I get why you’ve been ignoring me but you have to-”

“Get out.”  It was a low rumble deep in his chest.

“No.  Not until you listen to me.”  Gabriel tried to keep his voice even and soothing, because he knew Sam well enough to know he could very well explode.  “I am so fucking sorry.  I had no idea Crowley was going to do what he did.  I was trying to open the public’s eyes, and you’re gonna see there are more opportunities than you realize-”

“You took advantage of me.”  Sam cut him off, his voice had taken a turn from filled with rage to… hurt?  “I told you those things in confidence, because I fucking _trusted you_!  You used me as a goddamn character in one of your articles, as some kind of victim who needed justice!  I was doing just fucking fine on my own!  And now, guess what!  Everything is ruined!  I think Crowley said it best to me today, ’Good luck finding another job, since you’ve been outted for 'hating ballet' and no Modern Company will take your charity case.’”

“That’s _not_ true-”

“I’m fucked, Gabriel!  I was _barely_ cast in _this_ ballet company because of my height, and after this article no one will cast me again!  All thanks to you!  All thanks to getting close to you!  All thanks to lov-” he abruptly stopped his sentence and reached into his backpack on the counter.

“Sam, no, I _never_ used you.  All my feelings are real, I’m in love with you and that’s why I’ve already-" The next thing Gabriel knew, his shoulder stung and there was a clattering on the ground.

Sam had whipped the key Gabriel had given him back and was ordering, “You’re a fucking liar.  I should have known it was too good to be true.  You’re a piece of shit, and letting you in ruined my life.  Thanks for that.  Reminding me that's all people do.  They use each other.”

“No-” Gabriel tried in a last ditch effort to reach out and grab Sam’s face, but he was roughly shoved away and knocked into the wall.  

He wasn’t getting through to Sam.  None of this was working, the dancer wasn’t listening, so all he could do was repeat, “I’d do anything for you.  I didn’t think this would be a repercussion, and I’ll make it right.  I love you-”

“Is everything okay in here?”  There was a knock on the door accompanied by Ruby’s voice.

With narrowed eyes, Sam opened the door and said, “He was just leaving.”

“Goddammit, Sam-”

“Why are you here?”  Ruby demanded, putting her hands on her hip and snapping with an even harsher tone, “Haven’t you ruined enough lives today?”

“Calm your tits,” Gabriel raised his hands in front of him, because he didn’t want to get her involved - this wasn’t any of her business.  “I was talking with Sam and-”

“ _Leaving_ ,” the other man emphasized.  “I don’t have anything else left to say to you.”

Ruby stepped aside and stared him down, waiting for him to make his way out of the dressing room and down the hall.

Gabriel cast one last glance at Sam and with a heavy sigh said, “I meant everything I said.  Just…please.  Call me later, or something.”

He could have sworn he heard Ruby mutter under her breath, “Like you deserve it-” but he wouldn’t get into a fight with her.  She was insignificant, she was some a little girl who knew nothing about what was happening.

Finally, Gabriel stepped out of the dressing room, the woman looking at him with scrutiny, and it was then as he was walking away that he heard Sam’s voice perk up again.

But it was pitched in a way, with words that broke Gabriel’s heart into a million fucking pieces and his steps slowed when he heard the echoed conversation down the hallway.

It was with a tone he used to use with _Gabriel_.

The confident, slightly husky inquiry of, “Ruby, are you doing anything after the meet and greet?”

Her voice matched his and she flirtatiously said, “No, why?  Have anything in mind?”

“What do you think about me going home with you tonight?”

Gabriel felt like he was actually going to throw up when she cooed back, “We _do_ have a lot of time to make up for, don’t we?”

Sam's tone was full of haughty mischief.  “Yeah.  Let’s hurry up and get this bullshit done so we can start catching up.”

Gabriel needed to get fresh air before he lost his shit.  He _needed_ to get out of there.  But he couldn’t go back to his loft because Sam-

Once he burst through the backstage door, it was to see Meg smoking a cigarette and her eyes widened.

“ _Holy fuck_ ,” she rushed to his side, “You look like you’re gonna pass out.  What’s going on?”

“ _You’re_ worried about _me_?”  He asked ruefully.  “I just ruined your fucking life.  Don’t pretend you care, it’ll be better on both of us-”

“You didn’t ruin my life, dickhead.”  Meg looked him in the eyes and tilted her head.  “Now - what’s wrong?”

“I-I-” How did he even begin?  “Everything.”

“You look like you need a drink.”  Meg snuffed out her cigarette.  “I do, too.  Let’s hit it.”

“Don’t you have a meet and greet?”  Gabriel asked her in confusion.

With a laugh, Meg stated smugly, “Hey, I just got fired.  I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“All right,” he nodded.  “Yeah.  Drink, I can do.”  He let her lead the way.

\-------------

They were both drunk in little more than an hour.

During that time, Gabriel had sent a text to Abby, needing a new assignment as soon as possible, and Meg was getting chatty.

“To be honest, it was great to finally snap back at him,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders.  “It was liberating.  Knowing I can dance this whole show and not take anymore of his shit.  I’m _thanking_ you, Gabe.  Not to mention, I got a call from your blog about doing an article about positive body image.  Hell, you just opened new doors for me.  Why are _you_ such a hot mess?”

“Sam,” he finally gushed, deciding he literally had nothing to lose.  “He hates me.  I told him I would fix it, but he doesn’t believe me.  He doesn’t want anything to do with me.  He thinks I used him, but all I wanted to do was get all your stories out there.  Fuck.  I lost him.  And I'm never getting him back.”

“Wait-”  Drunk Meg was putting together the pieces.  “ _You’re_ who Sam was with.  This whole time?”  Her voice was baffled as she said it aloud.  “Holy shit.  You actually managed to pull the wool over my eyes.  That’s damn hard to do, so kudos.”  She tossed back the last of her drink and gestured to the bartender for another.  “ _That’s_ why you’re like this.  It’s not guilt.  It’s heartbreak.”

Gabriel nodded slowly, “That’s…putting it lightly.  I feel like my insides are getting torn apart, fuck, I love him, Meg.  All I wanted to do was help.  And I ruined everything.”

“Dude, he was gone on you, too.  You can get him back.  You can’t just turn it on and off.  Love, that is,”  Meg tried to comfort him, even though she knew it wasn’t her strong suit.

“Sam can.”  Gabriel buried his face in his palms, “When I tried to confront him and talk to him Ruby interrupted us.  So he kicked me out, and left me with a giant ‘you’re dead to me’ and literally asked her if they could fuck tonight, right in front of me.”

“Holy hell.”  Meg waved over the bartender again, ordering two shots.  “That’s a dick move.  I don’t give a crap about him using Ruby for revenge, but I get the feeling things were serious with you two.”

Gabriel only looked up to nod and to grab the shot placed in front of him.  “They were.  At least, I _thought_ they were.”

“Screw him.  He’s not worth it, Gabriel.”  Meg lifted her shot glass.

“That’s the problem,” he said in a hushed voice, barely above a whisper before they took their shots.  “He _is_.”


	11. Chapter 11

The meet and greet went as smooth as it could, considering the fact that faking it for so long was beginning to take a physical toll on Sam's body.  He needed some kind of release.  He needed to get out of here.  Out of this session, out of this theater, out of his goddamn head.

Everything had fallen apart, _he_ was falling apart, and he didn’t know what sort of glue would keep the pieces together.

Ruby was constantly at his side (Meg was supposed to be as well, but no one could find her anywhere), not just because of the photo ops, playing the leads, but because she was obviously counting down the time until they could leave.  Together.  Sam knew it was a low blow, hell, the _lowest_ of blows - but Gabriel had hurt him in a way he never thought possible.

Gabriel had been the first person he’d _ever_ let in.  The first person he’d allowed to get to know the real him, the first he's lowered his guard around, to…love.  Yes, Sam Winchester had _finally_ fallen in love and, of course, it turned out to be with some two-faced reporter who had only been using him for a story.

Even if Gabriel had been begging him, pleading with him, he knew it was bullshit.  And it wasn’t like it mattered anyway, Sam’s career was fucking over.  After Swan Lake finished its run, he didn’t know what to do.  The article aired out the fact he only danced in ballets because that was the only place for him to get a job.  Why would any company hire him when his whole heart wasn’t in it?

He couldn’t sing or act to save his life, so Musical Theater was a no-go.

Hell, he probably wouldn’t even be able to get a job was a waiter because of his God-given curse of clumsiness.

“Ready to head out?”  Ruby asked with a grin as the event began winding down and she took his hand into hers.

“Yeah.”  He gave her the most confident smile he could muster, but it was at that moment he caught someone else looking at him.

When he peered over his shoulder, he noticed it was Charlie and it wasn’t a simple glance of inquiry.  She was looking at him with something akin to disappointment.  Hell, it was even border-lining on _disgust_.  Sam raised a questioning eyebrow at her, but she scoffed and rolled her eyes, stomping off in the other direction.

Did Charlie know?  It sure as hell looked like she did, and that would explain the-

Before he knew it, they were back in the dressing rooms grabbing their belonging and headed out the backstage door.

Up until now, Sam had been lost in his own thoughts and he realized he needed to stop it.  It was too soon to get tangled up in all these worries, he still had a month to figure everything out.  Everything was just "too soon."  He needed to get lost in the here and now, something he was good at, that’s when he could finally be at peace and the rest of the world would fade away.

“Sam?  Where are you going?”  Ruby asked from where she was holding open the door to a cab.

Sam jerked out of his haze, because his feet were automatically walking to Gabriel’s loft.

 _Fuck_.

“Oh, sorry.  Long day.”  He tried to laugh it off and entered the taxi after Ruby scooted in.

He completely forgot she lived farther away and the cab ride was required to get to her apartment.  It wasn’t conveniently within walking distance.

“I know,” her fingertips traced shapes on his thigh.  “It’s been a really, _really_ long day.  But I think tonight we kicked ass, don’t you?”

“You know what?  We did,”  Sam confirmed, and he said it in all honesty.  “I’ll miss the stage.”

“Stop that right now,” Ruby chastised.  “I bet Crowley cools down and realizes he’s made a mistake.  Or you’ll get picked up by another company the second you step into auditions.  I never expected that reporter was going to be a fucking snake in the grass, he seemed so cool.  We _all_ let our guard down, Sam.  We were all tricked.”

“Yeah.  Let’s not talk about any of that, I want to forget about it,” he admitted and turned to Ruby to push a piece of hair behind her ear.  “Let’s just talk about us now, all right?  Nothing else in the world exists.”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded, “I like this plan.”

When the cab pulled up alongside Ruby’s apartment building, Sam paid the fare as he attempted to play the role of the gentleman.  It had been a while since he’d fallen into this guise, but it was coming back to him with decent ease.  He opened the doors for her, and once they were inside her apartment, he hoped he wasn’t too obvious when he asked:

“Do you have anything to drink?  We need to unwind from today.”

Which really meant: I need to get blacked out for this but I’m trying to play it classy.

“Of course.”  Ruby rounded the breakfast bar in her small apartment and opened one of the cupboards to glance inside.  “What kind of ‘unwind’ are you thinking?  Wine or whiskey?”

“Depends on how much you’d judge me.”  Sam quipped with a smirk and leaned against the counter.

“Hey, you got fired today, not me.”  She grabbed the bottle and a shot glass and sat it down in front of Sam.  “Sorry it’s warm.”

“I don’t care if it’s hot,” Sam twisted past the seal and poured himself a shot.

Then, when Ruby was searching for a bottle opener for her wine, he snuck two more.  She poured herself a glass of pinot and sipped while he took his (what looked to _her_ to be his second) fourth shot.

“Thanks, Rubes.  I needed this,” he admitted, making playful eye contact with her while he toyed with the whiskey bottle.  “All of this.”

“It surprised me,” Ruby watched him carefully.  “I thought you had a beau, with all those gaudy hickeys you were sporting.”

“A _mistake_ ,” Sam said as a way of explanation or even correction, which he felt constituted a refill on his shot glass.

“Well, anyone who tries that desperately to hold onto you is clearly a mistake.”  She snorted and glanced at the bottle with interest, “Are you trying to get drunk, Sam Winchester?”

“Ruby,” he flashed her his best puppy eyes, ones she had _never_ been able to say no to.  “My career basically ended today.  Let me drink a little, and then we can work on making it all better?”  He reached out for her hand at the tail end of his sentence and laced their fingers together.  “Does that sound good?”

“Mm,” she hummed and lifted their joined hands to kiss his knuckles.  “In that case, at least let me catch up with my wine, first.”

\----------------

Sam was good and drunk by the time Ruby tugged him into her bedroom.

It was the same as he remembered it: décor modern chic with a hint of her dark side showing.  Because she was a bit further away from the theater which was in a more popular district, her apartment was larger than his.  She had much more room to decorate and make it her own.  The entire living space read ‘Ruby’ loud and clear.

She hauled him down for an uncoordinated kiss which he returned with the kind of roughness he needed.  It was a prelude - so she knew what she was getting herself into.  That his body needed the physicality of sex, and needed release.  It was a tell there would be nothing romantic about this at all.  Lucky for him, Ruby gave just as good as she was given.

The woman nipped hard enough to draw blood from his lip, before she pulled away and asked seductively, “Unzip me?”

She turned around and Sam had to remind himself this wasn’t a shirt he could rip away.  This was an expensive, delicate evening gown he needed to be gentle with.  That took away half the fun.  And there was a small clasp on top his intoxicated brain and fingers were having trouble undoing, and it was all kinds of frustrating.  He could hear her giggle, and all he wanted to do was shove her to the bed and tear the fabric away, piece by piece.

But he couldn’t.  It was almost an annoyance.

How fragile everything was.  How he had to be soft to a certain degree.  He never had to worry about any of these things with Gabriel, Gabriel always met his every move with zeal, with strength, with -

 _No_ , he needed to _stop_.

When he finally unzipped the strapless dress, it fell down around her and pooled on the floor, leaving her in a matching set of a bra and panties.  She turned back around to kiss him again and undo his tie.  When Sam’s fingers brushed her skin, and wrapped around her waist she was too soft, too thin - but he ignored it.

Ruby had his jacket, tie and button-up strewn across the room before she backed him up and he fell to the bed.  Once she crawled up his body and straddled his hips, she made it a show of pulling her bra off.  Ruby reached and grabbed Sam’s wrists to bring his palms up to cup her breasts, and that’s when he realized how _wrong_ this was.

He knew it was wrong from the beginning, but this solidified it.

Sam… _couldn’t_ do this.

He _tried_ , God, had he tried but she…

…wasn’t _Gabriel_.

“ _Fuck_.”  He tore his arms away, and she leaned down to follow him.

“What’s wrong?”  Her voice was full of concern as she rolled her hips against his crotch.  “Did you literally get whiskey dick, Sammy?”

“No, _no_ , I’m sorry.”  He moved to sit up, but she kept chasing after him, flaccid cock or not.

“What the hell?  Seriously, you beg to come back with me, you drink my liquor and then you can’t even get hard and fuck me?”  She demanded, “I _deserve_ some kind of explanation!”

Sam started collecting his clothes at lightning speed and pulled them on, “It’s not you, all right?   _I’m_ the one that’s fucked up.”  He shook his head, “Apparently I’m a _goddamn masochist_ who can’t get over a piece of shit who _ruined my life_.”

“What-” Ruby grabbed a nearby hoodie to cover herself.  “ _Gabriel_ ?  It’s been _Gabriel_ , all this time?!”

“Yes!” Sam shouted, “And we’re done!  And I’m sorry I thought I’d be able to- but…I _can’t_.  I’m sorry.”

“So he used _you_ and you decided to use _me_ to get revenge?”  Ruby chased him as Sam headed to the door.  “The two of you are fucking _perfect_ for each other!  Asshole!”

He turned around and grabbed her shoulder, honesty coating each of his words, “Please, Ruby.  I know you have feelings for me.  And you deserve way better.  See?  I just took advantage of you.  That’s the kind of person I am.  You need to get over me and find someone who makes you happy.  I really am sorry.”

She stared at him in bafflement for a few seconds, before pulling the hoodie tighter around her body and saying, “I’m sorry you got fucked over.  Let’s pretend this never happened.”

“Thank you.  Thank you so much.”

“Be safe getting home.”  Her words were even as she shut the door behind him and the lock clicked into place.

Sam stood in the middle of the hallway for a few minutes, trying to collect himself.  He didn’t know whether he wanted to scream, run as far away from here as fast as he could, or cry.

Nothing was all right.  He couldn’t do anything to make it all right, either.

So hung his head and made his way back to his box of an apartment.  The one place he hadn’t slept in months.  Not to mention the fact, he’d be doing it alone.

\--------------

The shows continued on, Ruby and Sam had an understanding they’d never speak of the incident, and everything remained mundane.

Except, every show felt like Sam was slowly making his way, step by step, to the gallows.  The number of shows counted down and Crowley had not changed his mind.  Sam didn’t have the gumption to look elsewhere, he felt like he was drowning in a pit of depression and spent his nights drinking away his sorrows, and his days sweating out the liquor from the previous night.

Then one afternoon, he received a call from an unknown number while he was jogging home.

He took his pace down a peg until he was walking and answered, “Hello, Sam Winchester.”

“Just the man I was looking for!  Mr. Winchester, name’s Ellen.  Ellen Harvelle.  I was hoping to set up a lunch meeting with you sometime in the near future.  Now, I know your schedule is probably busy, but I’ve got an offer that I think you’ll find worth your while.”

Sam’s walk slammed to a halt, when he asked in confusion, “I’ve heard of you, you’re-”

“The AD of the NY Dance Movement, you got it.”  Her voice confirmed in a cheery tone.  “So, you tell me.  When’s your next opening for lunch?”

He didn’t know _why_ he blurted it out, maybe because he was desperate, but the words, “Today,” came out of his mouth before he could stop them.  “I mean, I’m finishing up at the gym, but after I get cleaned up, today is my day off before the show tonight.”  He tried to gather the words to make himself sound not _quite_ as desperate.  But then added in, “That is, if you’re free.”

“Well, damn!  That works out nicely!  How about we meet at Prascino’s at two?  Get a late lunch so you’re not rushed?”

“That sounds perfect, Mrs. Harvelle.”  Sam smiled ear to ear.

“Please, call me Ellen.  I’ll see ya then, Sam.”

And just like that, the phone call was over.

Sam was stuck in a daze, staring at his phone, until someone shouted at him to get the hell out of the way and he realized he needed to start jogging again.  While he had plenty of time, he also needed to take into consideration that he needed to make a good impression and dig through his closet.  Holy shit.  How did _Ellen Harvelle_ get _his_ number?  And _why_ had she called him?

He was flabbergasted.  But one thing he knew for sure - he needed to get his ass in gear.

\--------------------

When Sam arrived at the restaurant, he assumed he would be early - but the hostess recognized him immediately and led him to a table in the corner.

Where Ellen Harvelle sat sipping a cup of coffee.

She stood up to greet him and shake his hand, “It’s nice to officially meet you, Sam.”

He returned it, maybe a bit too zealously and said, “It’s an honor, Ellen.  I’ve been a fan of your Company’s work since you began.”

“So you have heard of us?”  She asked with an interested expression.

“Of course,” he tried not to sound overly excited when he explained, “Ever since your company started in 2010 you’ve done nothing but gain speed year after year.  You’ve gone from up and comers to the ‘It’ Company in the blink of an eye.  Your work is phenomenal, when I first saw your piece ‘Mockingbird’ on YouTube I bought a ticket to see the company live and it’s even that much better in person.  You’ve broken so much ground that starter modern companies only dream of.”

“Well, shoot,” Ellen huffed out.  “I gotta say thanks for all the kind words, Sam.  That means a lot coming from a dancer with your talent.  I know you’ve gotta good eye, and I know you're not just blowing smoke up my ass.”

Taken aback by the candidness that was Ellen, Sam also found it refreshing.

But then, there was the real question, “I’m very happy to be meeting with you.  But I have to ask, why did you call me here?”

“That’s easy enough.”  She took a sip of her coffee and winked, “‘Cause we want you, kid.”

He locked in place like a statue, unsure if he’d heard her correctly.  “Pardon?”

“Our open auditions start next week.  But I don’t need to see you in there with a number safety pinned to yer clothes to know I want you in my Company.  Now, I know you work with the ballet right now, but I know where your heart is - it’s Modern Dance.  Plus, I’ve seen your choreography and I’d love you to join as a dancer _and_ a choreographer.  We can match your pay at NYCB and _then_ some.”  She watched him with imploring eyes.  “Think that’s something you’d be interested in?”

“God, yes.”  The first part was instant, but then something made him pause, “How did you know I choreograph?”

Ellen leaned back in her chair and explained, “’Bout two months back, I had a lunch meeting with a reporter who reached out to me named Gabriel.  Works for that big-time news website.  Told me your story, how you went to school for it, and showed me some YouTube videos you’d uploaded for classes during your undergrad.  You’ve got skills.  Both choreographing and dancing.  I couldn’t thank him enough for helping me find you - you’ve got that freshness and stereotype-shattering thing we need.  He gave me your contact info.”

“ _Wait_.”  Sam was frozen up, but this time it was for an entirely different reason.  “So this has been in the works for _two months_?”

“Yep.  I told him I’d be getting a hold of you right before auditions.  When you were about finished with the ballet, so you’d have time to figure out which direction you wanted to take your career.  Didn’t want to pressure you during the rehearsal process, so we wanted to wait until the performances were about over, but before the next ballet was cast.  And so _we_ knew how many dancers to cast at the open call.”  She smiled warmly, but then raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

Everything crashed down at once.  
  
Ellen had no idea he’d been fired: she simply thought she was giving him the choice between quitting the NYCB and a new opportunity.  
  
An opportunity that Gabriel had set up for him.

Gabriel had come to him after the article, _begging_ to let him _explain_.  Trying to tell him that everything was going to be fine, he must have been talking about this Company being on the horizon for him as a surprise, but Sam wouldn’t listen.  He’d thrown everything back in his face, screamed at him how he’d ruined his life, when this had _already_ been set up since Swan Lake rehearsals.

Gabriel had done this for him, even before they were even officially together.

This act hadn’t even been a way to make amends, he had already made this happen for Sam...but Sam had been childish and refused to hear him out.

Gabriel had made his dreams come true, and Sam had rewarded him with a broken heart.

“Um.”  Sam was beginning to get choked up.  “This… this is amazing.  It’s _everything_ I’ve ever wanted, yes.  Yes, I’d love to work for your Company, Ellen.  In both capacities.”

He was trying to hard to fight through the potential breakdown.

“That’s great news.”  Her words were just words, because they were laced with concern.  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“I-I made a mistake.  I had no idea Gabriel did this for me.  I’m sure you read the article?”  He glanced up to see her nod.  “After that came out, shit hit the fan in the ballet.  Serious shit.  And I blamed him.  He tried to explain to me, I wouldn’t listen and I made a _huge_ mistake.”

Sam didn’t know how to explain it, but Ellen had this motherly kindness surrounding her when she said, “It’s never too late to fix it, Sam.  I know, in case you were wondering.”

“Know what?”  He asked cautiously.

“The way Gabriel spoke of you?”  She had a secret smile.  “Boy was head over heels.  Can I assume the feeling was mutual?”

He swallowed heavily and nodded.

“Then make amends, Sam.  That’s something special.   _Don’t_ give it up.”  Ellen pointed her finger, “Now, I want a text from you when you’ve gotten your man back.  ‘Cause I worry about my dancers.  We all become a family.  Are you ready for a family instead of a tedious job lead by an angry, selfish AD?”

“I’m ready.”  He grinned and knew his face was probably friggin glowing.  “Thank you so much for this opportunity.  I won’t disappoint you.  I can’t wait to be a part of your Company, Ellen, this means so much to me.  It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

“Good.  I’ll mark you down as part of the team and draw up your contract.”  Then, she narrowed her eyes at him with a deliberate look.  “Before then, you go fix your mistake.  Now.”

Sam jumped up from his seat from the commanding tone alone, but hesitated a beat to ask, “Have you heard of Meg Masters?”  
  
Ellen tilted her head to the side but nodded, “Of course, she’s the gorgeous ballerina who danced Odile.  And she’s been working with that charity organization that has to do with performers and eating disorders.  Why?”  
  
“I have a feeling she’d love to be a part of your Company, too.”  Sam couldn’t help but think of how he and Meg were in the same boat and how she would do the same for him.  “Would you consider reaching out to her and letting her know when auditions are?”  
  
“Pssh!”  Ellen swatted her hand in front of her face.  “Meg Masters is a shoe-in!  You go do your thing, and you send me her number!”  
  
Sam smiled brilliantly and nodded, “Yes, ma’am!”

“Don’t forget to text me!”

\-----------------

Sam ran from the restaurant to his apartment.

After he’d thrown Gabriel’s spare key at him in an act of anger and it ricocheted onto the dressing room floor, Gabriel left without picking it up.  Sam didn’t want to leave it laying there, so he begrudgingly stuffed it back into his backpack.  He still had it in his apartment somewhere.

He dug through his drawers and eventually found it in a kitchen drawer with random scissors, rubber bands and other odds and ends.  He eyed the key and took a deep breath.

Sam wasn’t going to give Gabriel the heads up.  He would head in there, guns blazing, before he lost his nerve.

He didn’t want to give the reporter time to run.

He would corner him, since Gabriel had cornered Sam, and hoped the results were different this time.

God, Sam felt like such an idiot.

He didn’t know if he felt worthy of being with Gabriel anymore, but he was going to try.   He was going to fight for this - because now that he knew the truth?  It showed how much Gabriel loved him.   _Had_ loved him.  The lengths he’d go to for him.  And hopefully...he still felt the same.

Because Sam had to admit, even though he tried to keep his own feelings at bay, they still lingered.  And with the news, they flared up and exploded all over again - and he needed to see the man now.

When he turned the corner to the building and got on the elevator Sam began vibrating with nerves and excitement.  He wanted to wrap the man up in his arms, kiss the hell out of him, and prayed Gabriel let him.

Luckily, Gabriel hadn’t changed the locks and the door opened just as easily with the key.  He shut it as quietly as he could behind him and listened for movement inside the apartment.  Only… he couldn’t hear any.  Not to mention, all the lights were off.

Finally, he gave in, calling out, “Gabriel?” only to hear his own voice echo off the walls.

He was alone.

He flipped on light switches and began exploring, wondering whether Gabriel would be back soon or not.

But the more he wandered, the more he put together the puzzle pieces.

When he was in the bathroom, most of the toiletries were cleaned out.  Same thing in the bedroom - but the drawers were open, and clothes were thrown haphazardly around the space like a goddamn tornado had spun through.  His closet was much emptier than Sam remembered it.

Gabriel wasn’t just stepping out.  He was gone.

Who knows where.  His laptop wasn’t here so Sam couldn’t snoop.  He continued to look for clues, and the only thing he found was a sticky note in the kitchen that read:

_11am terminal 32b_

Fuck.  There was no date, no way to tell when it had been written, but Gabriel needed to put an flight’s worth of space between them.

Not like Sam blamed him.

Shit, who could he get in contact with in order to find Gabriel?  He needed to find a way.  He would find away.

He _would_ fix this.


	12. Chapter 12

Gabriel ungracefully stumbled out of his cab and towards the hotel on the way back from an after-party in Hollywood.  Said after-party consisted of chatting it up and socializing with the cast of a new movie who were the focus of the latest article he was working on.  He needed to get away from New York, and he’d flown into Los Angeles as quickly as he could.

He’d written two articles from his fancy hotel (on the company card, mind you) since the mess in New York.  This one was the third.

Gabriel had also spent half the time drunk or out at these parties hopped up on coke, only because it was part of the lifestyle.  He was blending in, but also trying to forget what he’d left behind in exchange for the haze of this party scene.  He _still_ couldn’t bring himself to take anyone back to the hotel with him.  Even though it would be so easy...

He’d had an opportunity literally every night, and he’d nearly tried once, but he fucking  _couldn’t_.

Which was why he was drowning himself in liquor and occasionally drugs.

He could write just as well when he was drunk, and if he had a few punctuation errors, he had a goddamn editor who could fix those.  He was still hilarious and he was getting his job done - so if this was the way he chose to medicate his broken heart?  People were letting him be.

Hell, _Abby_ had even called him one night to check in on him and he’d blabbed the story, and she told him as long as it didn’t affect his job he could do whatever the hell he wanted.  He was still producing good material, and she ordered that she _never_ wanted to know that much about his personal life again.  Ever.  She was _very_ insistent on that fact.  But it was because she felt sorry for him, and that’s something she refused to experience again.  She liked being a heartless boss, thank you very much.

It took Gabriel two times to swipe his keycard, and he was about to be pissed if he’d jammed it into his wallet too close to his credit cards.  Again.

He loathed heading down to the front desk and having it reactivated.

They always looked at him with pity, because it happened on a bi-weekly basis (usually around these late hours) and he’d been here for a few weeks.  Normally, the front desk people were chill, but there was this one woman who always wore a high bun on top of her head that Gabriel fucking _hated-_

Thank fuckin’ Christ, his card _finally_ worked...

He made a strange, garbled noise of celebration as he tumbled inside and pulled off his suit jacket.  He was just about to yank off his clothes and collapse in his bed when he felt it.

A fucking nosebleed coming.

“Goddammit,” he cursed and sharply turned his path towards the bathroom, flicking on the lights.

He grabbed the tissues right as the crimson began dripping down his face, and jammed it up his nostril.  He had to brace himself against the counter, and it was in that moment that he caught a glimpse of himself and couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He looked like shit.

That was putting it mildly.

His eyes were bloodshot and for as much sun as he’d been getting in California, the tan couldn’t hide the fact that his face was gaunt.  His previously impeccably styled hair had gone wild sometime during the night, probably from some girl playing with it.  She had created a swooping mess on his head and he hoped no one had taken pictures.  Even he could tell he’d lost weight, which was saying something.

He exhaled and tore his eyes away from his reflection as he began to unbutton his shirt to kill time for the bleeding to clot.

After he removed that shirt, he wadded it up and left it on the counter top.  His first attempt at pulling the tissue from his nose was unsuccessful, so he had to grab a new one to shove back up there.

It was after he pulled off his jeans that he heard it.

A rustling noise coming from somewhere else in the suite.

He didn’t know if it was paranoia connected with the cocaine, or maybe he wasn’t alone.

Gabriel hadn’t turned on any lights besides the ones in the bathroom and there wasn’t anyone else who had a key to his room.  So he was silently freaking out.  Especially because of how large his room was.  Maybe he _was_ being paranoid, because why the hell would anyone be here at - he grabbed his phone - just after 3AM?

He waited, holding his breath, and listened carefully.

When Gabriel heard the rustling again, he knew it _wasn’t_ his imagination.

He was also pretty sure it was coming from where his work desk was, past his bed and on the other side of the suite.

But now there were footsteps.

Fuck, he was in flight or fight mode - he was close to the door, he could take off running...but he was in his undershirt and fucking boxers with a nose bleed.  If that wasn’t prime 'he’s-losing-his-mind’ press material if someone caught him, he didn’t know what was.

Maybe this was a practical joke set up by Abaddon, someone sent to check up on him and scare the fuck out of him in the process.  Make sure he wasn’t the hot mess that Gabriel had just confirmed he _was_ while looking at his reflection.

Finally, he decided to call out, “I know someone’s here!  Who the fuck are you?” his words a bit slurred.

A shadow was what appeared in the doorway before the actual figure, but the size made Gabriel nervous because he knew he’d lose if there was a fight.  Shit, maybe he _should_ have just taken off running through the halls in his underwear, after all.  It sure beat being fucking _murdered_.  Yep.  Gabriel was almost positive he was about to be in the headlines as a homicide victim instead of an almost-streaker, which was fucking _dandy_ , and-

But then the last person in the world he expected followed that shadow and left him speechless and frozen in place.

Sam Winchester.

 _How_ was he here?

 _Why_ was he here?

And why did he look so scared and then worried-

Sam rushed forward after his hesitant entrance and demanded, “Gabe, are you all right?”

But Gabriel was backing away until his rear hit the bathroom counter, “W-what are you doing?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I got in at six and I’ve been waiting for you.”  Then he ruefully added, “I didn’t know you’d be getting back at three in the morning.”

“How did you get in here?”  Gabriel narrowed his eyes, because as much as he wanted to see Sam ( _God_ , did he want to see him) he _didn’t_ want the man to see _him_ like this.  

In his drunken mind, he wasn’t focused on the reunion.  He was more concerned with the fact that he was being cornered, being judged and after everything that had happened, Sam still felt like he could pop back up into his life like it was no big deal.

“Everyone read that article, Gabe,” Sam huffed out, “I told the front desk we were doing a follow-up, and you said to just give me a key.  They laughed and agreed it sounded like you and they had no problem handing one over.”  There was so much concern in his expression when he said, “Seriously - are you all right?  You look-”

“Like shit, yeah, I have eyes.”  He shoved past where Sam was standing in the doorway and helped himself to the mini-fridge, grabbing a water and, at the last minute, a small vodka shot.

He flipped on the living room lights and unscrewed the top of the mini-Grey Goose, tossing back the contents and focusing on the burn because even though he was drunk he needed something more now that Sam was here.  Because he knew he wasn’t imagining this.  When he dreamt about Sam, it was about things that were much, much nicer than what was happening right now.

But the dancer was following him like a puppy, taking a seat at the table while Gabriel collapsed back on the couch.

“Did you just come here to tell me I’m a hot mess?”  Gabriel pulled the tissue from his nose a second time and discovered, thank God, it had stopped bleeding.  “No, _waitaminute_.  If my math is right,  _Ellen_  just got a hold of you.”  He chuckled humorlessly to himself and tossed the tissue away.  “Well, congrats.  But a phone call would have sufficed, you didn’t need to stalk me over here.  You're welcome.  You can go home now.”

“No.”  Sam gritted his teeth.  “Gabriel, I know I fucked up.  I fucked up so bad and I ruined us because I wouldn’t listen to you and I’m sorry-”

“Damage has been done.  You moved on quick enough,” he snorted and rolled his eyes, “Go home.  Finish the ballet.  And give Ruby my best.”

“I never went through with that.  I _couldn’t_.  I couldn’t get you out of my head.”  Sam pulled the chair closer, trying to get through to him.  “I know I’m impulsive and I wasn’t thinking.  All I could think about was how hurt I was, about how I thought you'd used me.  And you were the first person I’ve ever let in like that.  I-I know I should have trusted you enough to hear you out.  But... I’m no good at those things.  You know that.”

Gabriel wasn’t looking at him, not really, his focus was dazed and just over his shoulder.  Sam didn’t even know if his words reached him, he didn't know if Gabriel was listening to him at all.

So Sam decided fuck it.

He closed the distance and sat on the couch, grabbing Gabriel’s face, and forced his attention.

“Gabe.”  Sam's words were spoken clearly and deliberately.  “I’m  _in love_ with you.  I’m terrible at it, because until you...all I’ve known is sex and that’s it.  But I know what I feel about you is _real_.  I fucked up.  I know it.”  His voice started to shake and he couldn’t help it or stop it if he tried.  “I don’t want to do this without you.  You’ve given me everything, my dream job, my dream life, it all seems perfect.  But if you’re not in it?  It’s not.   _Please_.  Can we try this again?”

Gabriel wrenched himself from Sam’s grasp and hunched over his knees, cradling his forehead in his palms.  He took in a few deep breaths and groaned, before punching his fists into the couch and whipping back around to glare at Sam.

“What gives you the right?!”

The dancer jerked back from the pure venom in his voice.

“Do you have _any idea_ what you did to me?  How you fuckin’ broke my heart?  Okay, yeah, I should have understood, I should've better prepared myself because you ‘don’t get love,’ but I still went for it.  I didn’t hold back.  And I _still_ can’t get my shit together.   _Because of you_.”  Gabriel shook his head, “I knew you were damaged.  But I _still_ loved you.  Every part of you.  What the fuck is gonna keep you from doing this to me again?”

“ _You_ will,”  Sam answered instantly.  “Because you showed me.  You taught me.  I know I love you beyond a shadow of a doubt and I’d never hurt you like this again.  I get it now.  Gabriel?  Please?  Give me one more chance…” his voice was hushed and tinged at the corners with fear.

Sam knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t know he’d have to face a brutally honest, drunk and possibly strung-out Gabriel.  Fuck, Sam wished the other man was sober.  But maybe he needed to hear these things.  These truths that Gabriel wouldn’t say when he wasn’t intoxicated.

Gabriel stood up, mumbling, “This is too much right now,” and Sam got to his feet to follow him.

In an ironic turn of events, Sam actually had to help Gabriel as he almost tripped over a plush chair next to his bed.

He took a chance, when he was supporting most of Gabriel’s weight, to turn him around and dip down to kiss him.

Sam’s touch was deliberate but sweet and Gabriel melted against him.  It was like they’d never left each other, their bodies responded naturally and it wasn’t until things became a little heated that Gabriel pushed away.  At least now he was looking at Sam.   _Really_ looking at him.  Even though his brows were furrowed and he was sighing out.

“You can crash here tonight.”  He said in a defeated tone that Sam didn’t like one bit.

But hopefully, that meant they could talk more in the morning.

“Does your couch fold out-?”  Sam prompted, as he looked around the room hesitantly.

“Shut up.  The bed is huge.”  Gabriel was already halfway in it when he said the words to Sam.  “It’s going to be fuckin’ four in the morning soon, I'm not doing anything but sleeping.”

With a nod, Sam took turning the lights off upon himself, since he already had countless hours to get used to the layout of the room.  He wasn’t sure what was or was not crossing boundaries when getting into bed alongside the man, because all he felt was rejection.  Everything was hesitation and dread.  Sam finally settled on pulling off his jeans, but keeping on his t-shirt.

It was a strange form of torture, sleeping next to Gabriel but being unable to hold him.

Still, as he closed his eyes he was praying tomorrow would turn around for both of them.  It had to.  Sam didn’t know what to do if it didn’t.

\---------------

When Gabriel woke up, his recollection of the previous night was…blurred.

The party, the after-party, and then-

He jerked up out of bed, ignoring all threats of his hangover and upset stomach because… _Sam_.

Sam was _here_.

He hadn’t fabricated that.

Yet...he wasn’t next to him in the bed.

Shit, had he decided the visit was pointless?  Had he left?  Gabriel didn’t even know what time it was, since they’d gone to sleep at ass o’clock in the morning.  But when he looked around, Sam’s jacket was still here and then he heard footsteps.

The man appeared in the doorway and he looked nervous, his gaze flickering between his feet and Gabriel.  “You, uh, were doing the thing before you wake up.  I knew you’d be feeling like shit so I got a bath going for you.”

“The thing?”  Gabriel echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” a small smile quirked at the edge of Sam’s mouth.  “Sometimes before you wake up, you kick.  It’s like a little leg twitch.  I don’t know.”

“The hell didn’t I know that?”  He tilted his head.

“You usually wake up before me, so I only barely put it together.”  Sam shrugged, chewing on his bottom lip.  “Does a bath sound good?  You, uh,” he gestured to his chin.

When Gabriel’s hand flew up to his face, he realized his nose had a round two of bleed-age while he was sleeping because of the crusting red it left on his fingertips.  He grumbled to himself, “That’s the last time I’m doing coke for a while,” forgetting Sam was there, then raised his voice to hopefully distract away from the comment, “A bath sounds fuckin’ awesome.”

So awesome, in fact, that he jumped up from the bed and headed towards the bathroom, where Sam was still leaning in the doorway.  He didn’t think twice about stripping and getting ready to slide in, because he _really_ should have at least showered last night.  Rinsed the sweat and the stickiness from his body.  He probably _would_ have attempted a shower, had he not been distracted.

Speaking of distractions, Sam had left the second he went in.

Gabriel moaned obnoxiously when he dipped into the tub, the heat just on the right side of burning - but not too much.  Just like the showers he and Sam took together.  The steam cleared his abused nasal passages and relaxed his aching body all at the same time, as he held his breath and ducked under the water’s surface.

He attempted to remember the conversation they had last night, but he could only recall bits and pieces.

The moral of the story, though, was Sam had come to apologize and beg Gabriel back into his life.  He remembered that.  And as much as it terrified Gabriel seeing Sam… having Sam here…?  Fuck.  It felt right.  He was even disappointed when he woke up, knowing the dancer had been there and there wasn’t any accidental cuddling during the night.

He broke the surface of the water and took a deep breath, “Hey!  Get in here.”

Sam peered inside, just barely, and said, “Yeah?”

“Are you just gonna creep?  C’mon, you’ve seen me naked, nothing’s changed.”  Gabriel rolled his eyes, slamming the lid to the toilet seat down and gesturing for him to sit.

Sam finally took the hint, walked in the rest of the way and just to be an ass said, “Liar.  You’re too skinny.”

“Aren’t you sassy this morning.”  He leaned over the side of the tub closest to Sam.  “So.  Sorry if I was a dick last night.”

“No, I deserved it.  I deserved _more_ than that,” Sam huffed, looking almost hopeful.  “Like I said, I tried to corner you around six, but it turned into me having a goddamn stake out with myself until drunk Gabe came back.  Obviously, things didn’t go according to plan.  But I meant everything I said,” then he paused and curiously prompted, “If you remember everything I said.”

“I’m pretty good at drunk memory recovery.  Plus, I had the uppers with the downers, so it kinda evened out.”  He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Don’t joke about that.” Sam’s bitchface was on another level.  “You have no idea how fucking terrible I feel that I did this to you-” he moved to reach out and grab Gabriel, but recoiled at the last minute - unsure if he was allowed to touch him.  “If I could take it all back I would.  I want to make it better.  I don’t want us to go back to the way we were, I want us to be _above_ all that.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at Sam’s choice of words, and asked, “What does that mean?  Above all that?”

Then to help him along - give him permission, in a way - Gabriel reached out and flicked Sam in the shoulder teasingly.  He wanted to break the ‘no-touching’ barrier.  To show him it was all right, because Sam had so much fear inside him Gabriel couldn’t help but reassure him.  He didn’t like to see Sam scared, because Sam was supposed to be fearless and, even after everything, Gabriel _still_ loved him.

“I…” he sat with it for a second, before he looked up with determination and faced Gabriel.  “I don’t want us to be a secret.  I don’t care if the whole world knows.  I want to be able to spend days with you, not just random fucks at night.  I want it all.  I want to be able to hang around and do nothing while you work on your articles before rehearsal, instead of hiding away in my apartment.  I want a real relationship.  I felt like we were getting there with our dates and the thing towards the end, before it was all shot to hell,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair.  “I wasn’t ready then, but now it’s... everything.”

“So the whole domestic thing too?  Being a real couple?  No more secrecy?  Am I getting all this?”  Gabriel tried to paraphrase, leaving out the ‘thing’ because he knew that meant the ‘L word’ which didn’t need to be spoken.  “Even with our schedules?  You think it’d work?  That we could work out?”

“I want it to.  I want it so bad.  Or we can go back to how we were.  I’ll take it however you-”

He was interrupted when Gabriel raised the top half of his body from the tub and hauled Sam towards him by gripping the collar of his t-shirt.  He couldn’t keep his mouth to himself anymore, watching Sam stumble over his words was adorable and it gave him this hope he hadn’t felt in a damn long time.  This was more than he could have asked for and Sam had handed him the reins.  The final choices.  The way _Gabriel_  wanted to steer them.

And right now, he really wanted to steer the dancer downwards and run his tongue along the crease of Sam’s lips.  He opened his mouth right away and responded perfectly as the make out kicked up a notch in intensity, and Sam grabbed a handful of Gabriel’s hair.  He nipped teasingly at Sam’s bottom lip before he kissed the corner of his mouth and cheek, making his way towards Sam’s ear.

“Water’s still toasty.  Wanna join?”

Sam nodded excitedly and peeled his clothes off at record-breaking speeds.

\---------------

Nothing beyond more making out and scrubbing each other down happened in the tub because they weren’t quite ready for that.  They still had things to sort out, and Gabriel still had things to think about.  That’s not to say Gabriel didn’t appreciate Sam’s naked body and taking advantage of it with a bar of soap.

He was only human, after all.

After they dried off, Gabriel admitted, “I do need to work on my article,” but before Sam looked rejected, he added in, “You can stay.  Have you ever been to LA?”

“I came here one time for auditions.  It was just a weekend,” he shrugged his shoulders, “Obviously, nothing worked out.  But I didn’t try too hard at it.  I knew New York was the place to get jobs as a dancer anyway.”

“Yeah, I get that.”  Gabriel nodded, and rounded the bed where Sam was sitting and kissed his forehead.  “How ‘bout I show you around after I get some work done?  You watch some TV then I take you out?”

A huge smile shined on his face as he agreed, “That’d be awesome.”

“Perfect.”  He walked to the nightstand and grabbed the remote and tossed it to Sam.

Who _attempted_ to catch it.

But instead, it smacked him in the chest and rebounded to the floor, batteries scattering every which way.

Gabriel groaned, “We’re really gonna have to work on your hand-eye coordination, kid.”

“Shut up,” Sam snapped back and dove to the floor to put the remote back together.

“You’re right,” Gabriel began laughing.  “You’re a lost cause.”

Sam shot him a glare and asked, “Don’t you have an article to be working on?”

“Yeah, yeah.”


	13. Chapter 13

Sam was watching something on the Discovery Channel when Gabriel’s voice broke him out of his reverie and asked, “So what did you pack in that duffle bag?”

He glanced over to see the reporter leaning back in his chair, legs folded and arms crossed as he pointed.

“What I needed to drag you back with me.”

“Any sexy costumes?”  Gabriel unabashedly wiggled his eyebrows even though he was met with a glare.  “All right, all right.  I meant do you have anything nice to go out in?”

“Uh, I didn’t bring a suit, if that’s what you mean.”  Sam stood up and crossed the room to unzip the bag.  He started to pull out impeccably rolled clothing articles while saying, “I’ve got a nice pair of jeans, a button up and then I wore a blazer with my jacket on the plane.”

“That should be perfect.”  Gabriel clapped his hands.  “Well, for later tonight.  You might be a little hot until the sun goes down, but we can go out for dinner first.”

With a soft smile, Sam looked up and met Gabriel’s eyes, with a cautious, “Like one of our date nights?”

He was met with a steady nod.  “We can try it.”

“Does that mean _really_ trying it?”  Sam asked hopefully, his voice gaining in strength. “All of it?  Us?”

Gabriel watched him carefully, because this past day was something for the record books: this was Sam Winchester wearing his heart on his sleeve.  Something that may never be seen again.  Gabriel took it for what it was, something shy of a miracle, and he knew what it meant.  Which happened to be a whole hell of a lot.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice a bit smaller than Sam’s.  “Yeah, we’re gonna try it.”

That was when the dancer launched.

He ran around the bed, shoved Gabriel’s legs apart to kneel between them and wrapped his arms around him.  Sam held on for dear life, and everything happened so quickly, Gabriel’s hands tentatively hovered over Sam’s form before lowering and wrapping him up just as tightly.

He exhaled a sigh of relief - one he felt like he’d been holding for weeks on end.

For the first time since the incident, his body relaxed.  Gabriel wasn’t holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, the tension had evaporated.  It was all because the man who - apparently, felt the same way about him - was nearly trembling in his lap.

When Sam finally looked up and met Gabriel’s gaze he told him with conviction, “You’re not gonna regret this.”

Gabriel chose to respond by hooking his finger under Sam’s chin and dragging their mouths together in a sweet kiss.  He didn’t need words anymore, maybe some of Sam had rubbed off on him, because he found it just as easy to respond with his body these days.  When it came to the dancer, at least.

Once their lips were sealed and moving slowly against one another, Gabriel tenderly cupped one hand against Sam’s cheek while the other rested at the base of his neck.  Merely existing together, like this, speaking through tender kisses was the only thing Gabriel wanted.  It was the most amazing feeling in the world to have this back.

Their tongues brushed together while Sam’s hands grabbed fistfuls of fabric at the back of Gabriel’s shirt.  When Gabriel sucked Sam’s lip into his mouth and nipped, just barely, the dancer moaned and surged back towards him with a new vigor.

But they weren’t supposed to go there yet.

Gabriel pulled away enough to press their foreheads together and even though his voice held the undertones of lust, explained, “We’ve still got that date, kiddo.”

“Oh, yeah.”  Sam laughed and added, “No quickies first?”

“You’re tempting as hell, but I gotta say no.”  Gabriel slowly sat back in his chair and looked into Sam’s eyes, which were filled with want and made it even harder to take the proverbial step back.  “You said you wanted a relationship.  We can’t have a relationship if we never leave bed.”  His fingertips grazed lightly against Sam’s neck, sending a visible shiver down the man's spine.  “As much as I want to right now.”

“I get it.”  Sam backed away on his knees and sat his ass right down on the carpet.  “Just, uh.  Gotta wait for my boner to go down before I change into those clothes.”

Gabriel chuckled at how candid Sam always was, and how much he loved that characteristic in him.  His fucking adorable, sexy, clumsy, horny, talented, honest, smart and beautiful boyfriend.  Sam really was the full package, with some quirky add-ons that Gabriel wouldn’t change for anything.

\-------------------

Even though Sam hadn’t quite taken into account the California heat when he had flown to the other coast, it would be fine because the ocean air cooled the city once the sun went down.  Gabriel decided to call his driver (the one the company had provided to be at his beck and call) and take Sam to Venice Beach.  After all, Sam had seen the cold waves of the Atlantic, it was time he saw the gorgeous sandy beaches of the Pacific.

Gabriel made sure to keep away from the main road and all the tourist locations to head to a bit lesser-known destination, unless you were a resident.

There was nothing like fresh seafood, and Venice had always been one of Gabriel’s favorite beaches in California.  Not to mention, it was only about twenty minutes from the hotel.  Afterward, there wouldn’t be as much traffic getting back to West Hollywood - which was where Gabriel intended to take Sam out for a night on the town.

It was kind of adorable, the way the dancer looked out the window like a little kid, and Gabriel could tell this was one of those memories he wouldn’t soon forget.  He guessed Sam’s travel was limited, at best, since he’d spent his younger years training his ass off at studios, then went to college for dance while working a night job, followed by auditioning right away for a ballet company.

Once they were seated at the restaurant, something occurred to Gabriel that he couldn’t believe hadn’t come up before.

“Hold up,” he motioned dramatically after they placed their drink orders, “Swan Lake is still showing.  If you’re here, how the fuck-”

“I had an understudy.”  A mischievous grin flashed on Sam’s face.   “And what was Crowley gonna do?  Fire me?”

“So you dipped.  On your second from last performance week with the New York City Ballet.  In _hopes_ you’d find me and we’d work everything out?”  Gabriel asked in a deadpanned voice.  “What if Crowley doesn’t let you finish up?  What if you’re never on that stage again?”

“What if _you’d_ already moved on?  What if I didn’t get to you in time?  What if it’d been too little too late and you’d never forgive me?”  Sam countered with the same tone Gabriel delivered his own questions with.  “So what if Crowley doesn’t want me to finish up the production?  It’d be his loss.  They’ll have to announce someone else is filling my role, and how much do you wanna bet people will want refunds?”  He looked impish when he said, “I don’t care what he does.  But it really was your article that made us sell out all our performances.  Thanks for those pictures of my ass, by the way.”

“Those were Charlie’s!”  Gabriel defended immediately, but then admitted, “I just liked ’em, so I thought I should share the wealth.  Since that ass happens to be mine.”

“Promise?”  Sam quirked an eyebrow and noticed out of the corner of his eye their drinks were coming.

“Yeah.  It’s _definitely_ mine.”  After he thanked the waitress and took a sip of his (ridiculously strong) gin and tonic, he had to confess, “God, I miss that ass.”

“You could’ve had it in the hotel room,” Sam reminded him before he took a drink of his whiskey, then innocently added, “Who knows when you’ll get another chance?”  

“Shut up.  You and I both know-”

With a cocky smile, Sam inquired, “If we’re starting from scratch, isn’t it tacky to put out on the first date?”

“Hah!”  Gabriel burst out and shook his head, “Got me there, kid.  We’ll see where tonight leads.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”  Sam’s voice was pure in tone, but his eyes still had that hint of predatory desire that Gabriel couldn’t get enough of.

They could play, tease each other but Gabriel knew Sam, maybe even better than Sam knew himself.  Which made this game new and interesting.  Plus, ridiculously fun.

The two were too busy sizing each other up, finishing their drinks with taunting stares, that when the waitress came back and asked what they’d like to eat they embarrassingly admitted they hadn’t looked at the menu.  But they were already in need of another round of drinks.

Once she left, Gabriel shook his head with a chuckle, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Not allowed,” Sam commented casually.  “That would suck if I went to all this trouble and you died.  Total buzz-kill.”

“Glad my passing amounts to ’buzz-kill’ status.”  He continued laughing as he flipped through the menu.  “I should at least be on the ’shitty-week’ level.”

Sam kicked him under the table, “If we’re talking shitty,” he cleared his throat, voice suddenly much more serious than it had been, “When I saw you last night?  That scared me.  So you need to eat three courses and two desserts because you’re too thin _and_ I’m gonna be your sponsor.  I’m also gonna kick anyone’s ass who tries to give you coke.  I've seen too many friends go down that road, I'm not letting you.”

Gabriel raised his glass with a challenging expression, “But no laws against liquor?”

“Nope.”  Sam shrugged his shoulders, “As long as you have a good dinner, we’ll get drunk and have a wild night out on the town if you want.  But only then.”

“Okay, mom.”  Gabriel said it in a patronizing way, but when he looked up, Sam was dead-serious.  “What?”

“I mean it.  When I said I was scared.”  He chewed on his lip.  “We never really, uh, talked about that.  But I wanted to say it now.”

Gabriel just shook his head in acknowledgement, because he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Okay,” Sam tried to shake himself off and looked back to the menu.  “Everything looks awesome, do you know what you’re getting?”

Gabriel picked something at random, because how much Sam honestly cared and worried about him caught him off guard.  As did the fact he was being so open about his feelings.  Shit, the dancer really _had_ turned over a new leaf.  This _could_ really work.  This _was_ going to work.

How the hell did everything change so quickly?

\----------------

They ended up at the VIP party Gabriel had been invited to the previous night.  It was one that he had already planned on attending, because of the mingling required for the article he was currently working on.  Although his plans on how to _handle_ said party had done a complete turn around.

Initially, he would have found himself drunk around two in the afternoon, claiming it was five o’clock in New York, and worked on his article while intoxicated.  Then, he would have called up some of his friends and headed out to grab a small appetizer to save room for more drinks at a random martini bar.  Finally, he would’ve ended up here, at this VIP party, right around the same time.  Which happened to be at eleven - since Sam and he had decided to walk along the beach for a while and chat.  However this time, Gabriel wasn't going to drink until he blacked out or snort a few lines of coke even though his nose had given him bloody warning signs the night before, as he _would_ have.

No.  Now things were completely different.

Sure, he was buzzed and taking advantage of the free booze, but Sam was at his side.  Gabriel introduced the dancer around and many recognized him from both Gabriel’s article and seeing the ballet themselves.  Sam wasn’t _just_ arm candy.  He was chatting it up with everyone Gabriel considered a friend, and even if he was watching Gabriel when some of the girls tried to pull him away to the bathroom (of course, he declined) Sam was fine doing shots with the group.

He fit into this life seamlessly.

Sam fit into _everything_ seamlessly.

“So, Gabriel, you _must_ tell me,” Bela, one of the socialites within the Hollywood circle, sidled up to him and asked, “Do you two have a story?”

The reporter threw his head back and laughed, “Oh, God, we have a fuckin’ _novel_.  What chapter are you asking about, sweetheart?”

She looked between the men with curiosity, sipping her martini and inquired, “You’ve been so wild and free lately.  And now you’re behaving.  Has - Sam, right? - tamed the beast?”

Gabriel knew she was goading him on, because this was one of the women who had consistently tried to lure the reporter into her bed.  Sam looked at Gabriel, unsure how to respond as he tossed back the rest of his drink, thinking about the question.

“I don’t think anyone could tame Gabriel,” he finally came up with, shooting him a small smile.  “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him behave.”

“Oh, but I’ve witnessed him when he’s downright _naughty_ ,” she leered and dramatically whispered, “I miss that.”

“Bela, you tart.”  Gabriel finally patted her on the back and rolled his eyes, “Because of _you_ , I’m anemic from all the blood my nose decided it didn’t need.  Just because I’m over the drugs doesn’t make me any less fun.”

“Oh.”  She pouted, then a Cheshire-like grin appeared on her face.  “I can see how that would be a problem.  Does that mean we can still make out, or are you too anemic?”

“That _would_ be a problem.”  Sam was the one who swiftly interrupted, “Because my boyfriend’s no longer allowed to make out with coke whores.  Sorry, it’s a new rule.  Are there any other questions, Bela - was it?”

“What did you just-?”  Her eyes widened in shock while Gabriel stifled his laughter.

“I’m sorry, my boyfriend gets sassy when he’s drunk.  It’s just a thing,” he glanced up to Sam’s smug expression, and then added, “Looks like he needs another drink!  We’ll be around!”

Gabriel pulled him towards the open bar giggling, but Sam didn’t look amused, “Did you really make out with her?”

“I thought you fucked Ruby less than twenty four hours after we’d made love, cut me some slack.”  He huffed and lightly smacked Sam's arm, “She’s been trying to get in my pants for forever.  And did she?  Notta once.  So sue me if I was fucked up and she was handsy.”  Gabriel grabbed Sam’s chin so he was looking at him.  “That’s all over now.  We’re together.  You don’t get to be judge-y.  Even though it’s sexy when you’re possessive.”

Sam was slid a new drink from the bartender and Gabriel pulled out a tip to jam in the overflowing tip jar.

“Wanna do a shot?  ‘Cause I’m riding that nice edge right now, gotta say,” Gabriel hooked his fingers in the belt loop of Sam’s skinny jeans and watched as the dancer’s eyes dilated ever-so-slightly.  “We don’t have to stay much longer.  It’s comin’ up on one, anyway.”

“Y-yeah.”  Sam licked his lips, watching Gabriel’s every move, and when they turned back...the small glasses of liquor were already there.

“ _You_ fuckin’ _rock_.”  Gabriel commended the bartender who laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s not eavesdropping if you’re loudly seducing each other in public,” she stated cheekily.  “I’m happy to finally meet the reason you’ve been drinking your feelings, Gabriel.  You look better getting drunk to celebrate, rather than forget.”

“Hey!  I look good all the time!” he defended indignantly.

She raised her hands in surrender, while Sam picked up his shot glass.

“To celebrating and not forgetting?”  He knew he was wearing a dumb smile, but he couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, yeah.  Or to me looking good.”

“You do look really good right now-” Sam couldn’t take his eyes off him.

“Drink the damn liquor!”  the bartender snapped from behind them.  “Then go get a room and bone.  You two are disgustingly adorable.”

Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows, “I’ll cheers to that.”

\--------------

All the required mingling was finished, and both men were pretty sure if they drank anymore tomorrow would be a struggle.  They were in that perfect state of drunken giddiness, where everything was a great idea, they were feeling no pain and they were having a really, _really_ difficult time keeping their hands off each other.

The car ride back to the hotel was full of longing glances, and casual conversation, but a wall of lust was behind it, threatening to cave in at any moment.

Gabriel’s voice was a little rough around the edges when he asked, “So, you liked dinner.  Loved the beach.  Did you have fun at the party?”

“I had fun, minus 'Bela.'”  The name was wrapped in spite.  “You never-?”

“Fuck no.  I could never stop thinking about _you_.  I told you that.”  Gabriel muttered out, “You ruined me for the rest of the _world_ , kid.  So, kudos, on that.”

When Sam didn’t respond, Gabriel glanced over to see a look of haughty victory written across his features.  He was so happy with himself, he didn’t even feel the need to reply.  Which had Gabriel rolling his eyes.

“What?”  Sam caught the eye roll, and scooted closer to Gabriel inside the car.  He even went as far as to wrap his arm around his shoulder and said, “You said I was the sassy one?  Look at you.”

“You bring out the sass in me.”  When he snapped his attention back to Sam, he realized they were literally only a breath apart.  “You… bring out a lot of things in me.”

“Yeah?”  He angled his chin so their lips were even closer than before.  “Like what?”

“We’re here!”  Gabriel announced suddenly and jumped out of the cab so quickly it startled Sam.    
  
Gabriel had already thanked and tipped the driver and began heading towards the hotel.

Sam reached out and grabbed his hand; Gabriel’s fingers automatically intertwined with his because this was just what they did.  Just like when they walked back to Gabriel’s loft from the theater, before they had to leave at separate times.  The pair held hands like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Those working the front desk waved at the reporter and he smiled back, proud that there was only a barely noticeable stumble in his step.  Normally, the staff were used to seeing him practically crawling, he was so inebriated, towards the elevators.  He felt like a human, rather than a hot mess creature today.

When Gabriel punched in the floor, Sam kept stealing glances and squeezing his hand but no words were spoken.  They finally had to let go of their grip when they arrived in front of the door and Gabriel swiped the keycard.  He let Sam enter the room first, and when he closed (and latched) the door behind him, he flickered on the lights.

Sam had already hung up his jacket and was pulling off his blazer, staring Gabriel down with razor-sharp precision.

“So now the real question.”  Gabriel began while he toed off his shoes.  “If this is our first date in our new relationship, are you going to be ‘tacky,’” he quoted Sam from earlier while hanging up his jacket in the doorway, “or classy?”

When he glanced back, Sam was doing the last thing Gabriel could have imagined.

He was hunched over his laptop.

“What are you…?”  Gabriel began walking towards him curiously, until a strange echo of distorted voices filled the room, followed by a steady beat.

Sam looked over his shoulder with a wicked grin and asked, “What about ‘strip tease on first date?’  Is that considered tacky or classy?”  He slowly stepped away from the laptop as the music continued to play, and Gabriel’s throat went dry.

“I… haven’t looked that one up in the rule book…” was all he could come up with, because he was pretty sure his brain was short-circuiting.

Sam took it upon himself to grab the wooden chair from the dining room table - the only chair in the suite without arms - and then he shoved Gabriel down into it.  Sam also wandered to the light switch and excitedly noticed there was a dimmer option included, which he used to kill the harshness of the lights in the room but leave a glow.

He looked back at Gabriel who looked like a fish out of water.

Which was _exactly_ where Sam wanted him.

He planned to catch the reporter off guard, and commended himself for leaving him without a witty comeback as he eyed him and walked closer, feeling the beat of the music.  It was just like riding a bike, a throwback to his college days - except he didn’t need to feign attraction to whoever he was giving a lap dance to.  Gabriel was there, watching his every move, and ripe for the taking.

When the heavier bass of the song hit, Sam’s hips found an easy, sensual rock back and forth, combined with the articulated pulses melting into the beat.  The energy and movement rolled through his spine, up his torso and off his shoulders, circling Gabriel in the chair - while his fingertips played over the buttons on his shirt.

Gabriel was frozen to that spot.  Then Sam surprised him from where he had disappeared from view, by covering Gabriel’s wrists with his warm hands and slowly caressed up his arms.  Sam’s touch trailed upward, until it was lost and brushed away, somewhere halfway up his neck causing Gabe to shiver.  Confident Gabriel wasn’t going to turn around, Sam dipped down and licked the shell of the reporter’s ear, which drew an unexpected moan from his throat.

Sam switched the contact of his mouth with his fingertips, brushing Gabriel’s hair off his face.  After he swept the hair from the reporter's brow, he easily ducked to the side, kicked a leg over and straddled Gabriel from the front.  Hovering just out of reach.

While he’d been teasing Gabriel from behind, Sam also managed to get his shirt unbuttoned, and it was now open and exposing the flex of his muscles.

Gabriel was captivated by the way his abs tightened and shifted as he rolled his hips and arched his body.  But it wasn’t just his abs, _fuck_ , his pecs were half obstructed by the damn shirt, and the way he swayed and leaned with the music made Gabriel want to rip it the fuck off.

He’d never watched Sam’s body move like _this_ before.

It was like a well oiled machine, smooth, enticing and fucking gorgeous in a way he couldn’t have expected.  Even the subtle shifts and accents combined with the music were going straight to his cock, and Sam still, _technically_ , hadn’t taken anything off.

But when Sam began to deliberately roll his shoulders, the fabric slipped painfully slowly, until it was draped off only one arm.  Gabriel had to assert more control than he thought he had in him.  Sam was watching him from where he was still straddling and balancing over Gabriel, his mouth slightly opened when the shirt finally fell to the floor in time with the song's bass.

Sam grabbed the back of the chair, boxing Gabriel in on both sides, as he rolled his entire toned torso up, once, twice, bare _inches_  away from touching one another... before he took three steps back.

His body never fell out of rhythm, his hips never dropped the beat and now they were swiveling as his hands hovered over his belt.  There was nothing tentative about the way his hands moved smoothly with the lyrics, and the belt was pulled away from his jeans so swiftly it made a whipping noise just before Sam tossed it aside.

Gabriel’s cock was so hard inside his pants it hurt.  He tried to shift around, find some kind of angle but he knew nothing would make this hard-on any easier until the pressure was relieved.  And by the way Sam was smirking at him, it looked as though he was going to continue to torture him.

He approached Gabriel again, trapping him between his legs, this time he stood at his full height.

Sam paused in his dance just long enough to order, “Use your mouth,” while he dragged his fingertips along the front of his fly.

“Jesus,” Gabriel gasped out loud, but gave into the order.

All he wanted to do was tease Sam back, mouth along the outline of his erection too, but this wasn’t his play.  This was Sam’s game, and if he wanted to win, he’d have to follow instructions readily.  Gabriel mouthed around the small flap of denim until he could find a good angle.  Then, he used his teeth to pull it past the button.

When he glanced up at Sam, he nodded encouragingly, and Gabriel’s teeth captured the zipper and tugged it down.  He tried for one more move, but Sam had already dipped away and given into the beat of the music.  Although there _was_ a reward for Gabriel.  Instead of finishing his strip tease out of reach, Sam ground down against his achingly hard cock, undulating his hips in a way that didn’t just make Gabriel moan, but made him whimper and shout out.

Sam lost himself in that instant, whispering in Gabriel’s ear, “Fuck, you’re sexy, I don‘t know if I can wait-” while sucking on his neck, but then he caught himself.

When Sam retreated, he raked his fingernails down Gabriel’s thighs and turned his back.  Gabriel was working hard to catch his breath, and the way Sam was swinging his hips and showing off that perfect ass wasn’t helping at all.

He had his thumbs hooked in the belt loops, and every swing brought them down further, little by little.  Gabriel was waiting with bated breath, needing him to take them off, about ready to shout at him-

But that’s when Sam bent over at the waist, completely in half, and didn’t _just_ pull his jeans off.  

He pulled _everything_ off.

Leaving Gabriel with a perfect fucking view.

That’s when he snapped.

He lunged from the chair and didn’t give Sam a chance to get back up after he’d stepped out of his jeans and boxers.  Gabriel held him in place and licked a trail from his balls to his hole.  Sam gasped, and would have fallen over if Gabriel hadn’t caught him in just the right way.

Fuck this ‘first date’ bullshit.

Gabriel was too busy swirling his tongue around Sam’s asshole and then plunging in to give a damn.

Sam gasped, “G-Gabriel, bed,” and squirmed while the man licked him from the inside, and fuck, had he missed this.

“You’re such a tease, Sammy,” he scolded, dipping his fingertip inside the dancer’s opening, “I’m just returning the favor.”

“No more teasing.”  Sam said it so fast it almost sounded like one single word, as he pulled away and turned to face Gabriel, flushed and aroused.  “No more clothes.”

He dove at Gabriel with none of the finesse he used removing his own, because right now all he wanted was the naked press of their skin together.  Gabriel could have sworn he heard something tear, but he couldn’t care less.  He was more turned on than he’d probably ever been in his life, and he was going to do something about it.  And clothes were _not_ part of the equation.

Gabriel tackled Sam to the bed and kissed him with a ferocity he hadn’t used in a while.  But it wasn’t the kind of violence Sam always craved after bad rehearsals when he needed to take out his frustration.  It was this intensity of wanting Sam so badly, missing him so badly, of craving every single part of him that he needed to take him and never let go.

They rolled around on the too-large bed, fighting for dominance when Gabriel realized one terrible thing and stopped.  

It alarmed Sam too, because he jerked back and demanded, “What?  Are you okay?  What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have lube.”  Gabriel cursed out loud, “And I should be inside you in the next two minutes.  Fuck!”

“Oh, is _that_ all?”  Sam raised an eyebrow and rolled off the bed to his duffle bag.

“Shut up.   _Really_?”

“I was optimistic!”

“Thank _God_ ,” Gabriel grabbed Sam’s hips and pulled him back down, “For your optimism.”

“Who would’ve thought.”  He placed the bottle in Gabriel’s hand, who aggressively tore past the plastic and the foil, and mused, “You weren’t kidding about two minutes.  Should I time you?”

“No,” Gabriel finally was able to squeeze some from the bottle, when he added, “But you should spread ‘em.”

“You’re so romantic.”  Sam did as he said, but also wrapped a leg around Gabriel’s back to urge him along.

It’s not as though it mattered much anyway, Gabriel wasn’t teasing him slowly, as Sam had done.  Instead, he crawled up Sam’s body and kissing him with the same intensity but a different…energy?  As though he was grateful.  Which was ridiculous, because Sam thought if anyone should be grateful, it should be him.

So Sam grabbed Gabriel’s face with both hands and kissed him like he meant it.  Because this was exactly where he wanted to be and he needed to show how insanely happy he was.

“Am I hurting you?”  Gabriel pulled away just far enough to ask.

“N-No.”  Sam was only half-bullshitting.  “You’re fine, Gabe.”

“You’re so fucking _tight_ , Sam,” he whispered as he twisted three fingers inside him and kissed his neck.  “Shit, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“See?  You ruined me for everyone else, too,” Sam laughed and took a deep breath, as he tried to relax.  “It’ll be fine.  God, I want you so bad.  It’s all I can think about.  All I’ve been _able_ to think about.  You know how addicted I am to your cock.”

“Yeah, but,” he slowly, as gently as possible, worked in a fourth finger, “If after all this?  If I do something that-”

“You won’t.  You _can’t_.”  Sam shook his head, forcing Gabriel to look him in the eyes.  “I’ll even let you take it at your own pace, so you feel okay about it.”

Gabriel pumped his fingers in and out of Sam, watching him closely and making sure this wasn’t going to be torture.  Because Gabriel knew it would be torture for them both if it didn’t work.  How fucking ironic was that.

In the middle of making sure Sam wasn’t wincing, or visibly pained while he fingered him, his drunk brain made him mumble out, “I got really lucky, you’re beautiful like this.”

Sam played along, “How?”

“Trusting me.  Maybe even loving me.”

The dancer twitched just slightly and he said, “Gabe, I’m ready.”

“Do we need-”

“I told you, I haven’t been with anyone, if you haven’t-”

“No, I-” Gabriel sensed this strange new fire from Sam, and so he was quick to cover his cock in lube but he had to remind himself to take it slow.

Sam’s mouth was suddenly glued to his and he was grabbing Gabriel’s hips when he felt the tip brush his hole.  Even though Gabriel was between Sam’s legs, positioned over him, it was Sam who was in charge and pulled Gabriel into his body.

He was breathing rapidly as Gabriel’s dick stretched him wider than he could ever remember feeling in forever, since the first time, and Sam’s mouth clamped down on the other man’s neck to muffle the groans.  Because it did hurt, but it wouldn’t soon.  Sam knew that.  And what was more important is that they were together.  Like this.

God, it was so important.

Gabriel’s moan filled the room when he was balls deep inside the tightness, but he needed to kiss him.  Needed to make sure he was all right.  But all he had right now was a sting to his neck and a shaky breath against it.

“Sam, are you-”

The dancer head butted him in a way that their mouths came back together and he kissed him hard, only to pull away and gush, “I love you, Gabriel.  I love you so fucking much.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Gabriel’s face as he opened his eyes and saw Sam staring right back at him.  There was undeterred conviction in those eyes.  It didn’t just tug at Gabriel’s heart strings, it cut them loose, fucking reached out and wrapped them around his body and tied him up in knots.  Because he couldn’t get over this moment, he couldn’t get over-

“I love you-” Gabriel had to get the words out before they ate him alive.

Sam was glowing, a sincere happiness that overwhelmed all his broken pieces.  Then, a guttural moan erupted from his throat as he ground his hips against Gabriel’s cock.  

He nodded and tossed his head back - then in true Sam fashion, challenged, “Then make love to me.”

“Heh,” a smirk dawned on Gabriel’s face as he accepted with, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, babe,” and began to set a pace.

It wasn’t slow, like he was treating Sam as though he was fragile, but it wasn’t fierce.  It was, for lack of a better word - passionate.

In all the right ways, right out the gate.

He worshiped Sam’s body, every inch of skin he could get his hands or his mouth on, while his hips snapped in and out.  The dancer pulled him in deeper with his muscled thighs, grinding into every slap of their flesh coming together.  His cock was trapped between their bodies, dribbling precum and made for the beginnings of an easy glide.

Once Gabriel hauled one of Sam’s legs over his shoulder, the dancer made the most delicious noise and his body shook.

“That the place, Sammy?”  Gabriel manhandled his leg with an iron grip while he leaned forward to kiss Sam’s lips.

“Fuck yeah, again, Gabe-” he ordered, grabbing handfuls of Gabriel’s hair.

The urgency and way Sam was falling apart under him was breathtaking, and he wasn’t going to hold back a second longer.  He angled his hips in just the right way that made Sam scream, and exploited it over and over.

Gabriel was enraptured by the image of Sam completely losing control, of begging him, and then shooting cum on both their bodies.  When he fell over that ledge, it wasn't with Gabriel’s name on his lips, but the words, “I love you,” uttered fearlessly.

It was so surreal, and Gabriel didn’t wait for Sam to come down before he hauled the dancer’s other leg over his shoulder too.  He bent Sam in half and began fucking into him with sharp, staccato thrusts, chasing his own orgasm.

Sam was moaning and hazily opened his eyes right before Gabriel was about to blow his load, and grabbed his face.

Sam pulled him into the most mind-blowing kiss, it was like an out-of-body experience when he came.  His lips never stopped moving (that part he was certain of) but when his brain started working again, they were laying side by side and Gabriel questioned what the fuck had just happened.

Sam was happily draped around him, no longer at his mercy underneath him, and running his hand up and down his neck.  Gabriel, apparently, had shifted - because his hand was low on Sam’s waist while the other was propping his own head up so they could kiss properly.

Holy shit.

“Thank you,” Sam’s voice was hushed as he pulled away and laid his head on the pillow, looking at him with adoration.

“For fantastic sex?  No, thank _you_ for the lap dance.”

“Shut up.”  He smacked him lightly on the back of the head.  “Thank you for forgiving me.  I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Never thought you’d ever get this sappy,” Gabriel grinned, but before Sam could retort, added in, “You make me sappy too.  The fuck, right?  You melt my brain and make my Grinch heart grow three gooey sizes.”  Then he paused, and finished, “But only for you.”

“Good.”  Sam affirmed.  “If it was with anyone else I’d get jealous.  I don’t like to share.”

“I noticed,” Gabriel squeezed him closer and kissed his forehead.  “I like it.  Makes me feel all special.  Don’t worry, only person you’ll have to share me with is the occasional bitch of a boss I’ve got.  Name’s Abaddon.”

“I, uh, know.”  Sam chewed on his bottom lip and looked a little guilty.

“Wait, _what_?”

“Don’t get mad.”  The dancer reached out and laced their fingers together, “I went to your apartment in New York and you were nowhere to be found.  I knew you’d left because it was ransacked and I didn’t know what to do.  So… I got a hold of your company.  I figured you were out on a job and when I said who I was, uh, Abby asked me to come meet with her.”

“You had a meeting with Abby,”  Gabriel said in a flat tone.  “And you made it out alive.”

“She was really nice!”  Sam jumped to defend her.  “Well, not nice.  She was professional and cordial-”

“Sammy.  That woman is a demon.  I am _not_ fucking with you, what the hell did you barter, what did you-”

“Gabriel!  I was freaking out.  I knew I’d made a huge mistake and I needed some kind of lead to find you with no idea where to start.  So I, uh, poured my heart out and she gave me the info,” he admitted, with furrowed eyebrows.

“You didn’t.”

“She was awesome about it.  She said she genuinely cared about her employees well-being and she wanted you to be happy.  Abby even arranged for airfare and accommodations if I couldn’t talk my way into your room.”  Sam clapped Gabriel on the side of the face, “You can’t say that’s not ’Boss of the Year’ material, Gabriel.”

“Oh-ho-ho, it sure as fuck _isn’t_!”  Gabe tumbled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, grabbing Sam as he fell.   “They’re writing an _article_ about us, dumbass.”

“Wait, wha-?”

“The question is whether it’ll be out tomorrow or if someone’s going to try to get a hold of us for interviews for release the next day.”

“She _wouldn’t…_ ”

“She _will_.  She recorded every single thing you gushed about during that meeting and then paid it forward to another person from our team who has been scoping us out since you’ve landed.  Now, the question is _who_ , if I can talk to them before it goes to online to make sure it isn’t absolutely disgusting teeny bopper, star-crossed lovers shit, because the readers eat those stories up, or if it’s the real deal.”

“I was _tricked_!”

“Shh, you just don’t know the game and the evil that is Abaddon,” Gabriel closed Sam’s gaping mouth with a tender kiss.  “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.  Until then, let’s get some sleep.”

“I still can’t…” Sam huffed out.  “Okay.  You’re right.  Sleep.  Then double-agent work.”

“There were go.”  Gabriel squeezed him tight and when he released the tension, languidly mumbled, “Love you, Sam,” just because he could.

Sam kissed Gabriel’s neck from where he was pillowed against his chest and repeated, “I love you too, Gabe,” and when he closed his eyes, sleep took him surprisingly fast.

In spite of the circumstances and the latest revelations, it took them both surprisingly fast.


	14. Chapter 14

No alarm had been set, mostly due to Gabriel’s ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude lately, and his choice to sleep in whenever the hell he wanted to.  They both ended up slowly stirring together, because somehow their internal alarm clocks synced up and went off sometime around ten.  Although they didn’t jump out of bed right away - they shifted around, kissing random exposed expanses of one another's skin and savoring the morning.

Although Gabriel had to crassly comment, once they were more or less alert, “Nothing like waking up covered in dried cum.”

“Good morning to you, too.”  Sam nipped Gabriel’s shoulder playfully, before suggesting, “Shower?  When I was getting your bath ready, it looked awesome.”

“Oh, it _is_.  Wanna get room service then hop in while we wait?” Gabriel suggested while reaching for the menu he knew he kept on the nightstand on his side of the bed.  He slapped it against Sam’s chest with the demand, “Order whatever you want.  In bulk.  Now that I know of Abby’s evil plan I’m gonna burn a fuckin’ hole in her pocket since she’s footing this bill.  I advise you to do the same.”

“I’ll only place a big order because you’re coke-head scrawny, not because I’m getting revenge,“ Sam emphasized, then asked, “What are you gonna do?” while Gabriel was getting out of bed.

“I’m gonna start the shower.”  He winked, and while he was walking, threw over his shoulder, “Plus, I gotta brainstorm who’s doing this damn article.  I’ll be too distracted once you join me, and I do my best thinking in the shower.”

“You’re perky today.”  Sam had to raise his voice when he called after him to make sure he heard him.

Gabriel’s head poked back into the room and wiggled his eyebrows, “It’s ‘cause I had a _fan-fuckin’-tastic_ night.  You should be perky, too!”

Sam shot him a warm smile, before teasing, “I would be, if I wasn’t commanded to handle room service.”

“Oh, first world problems, poor baby,” Gabriel lamented dramatically.

“Weren’t you going to do some brainstorming?”

“On it!”

\--------------

Sam didn’t fuck around with ordering a huge breakfast.

The only complaint Gabriel had was how _healthy_ it was.

The hotel had an entire menu of delicious fluffy pancakes, waffles loaded with carbs and whipped cream and friggin Sam ordered omelets, fresh fruits and the healthy crap.  Gabriel never should have put a dancer in charge of ordering _real_ food.  But still, he humored Sam and stuffed his face, just like he said he was going to.

They lounged around in their pajamas as Gabriel went to the blog’s main site and did some detective work.  He was looking around to see who had recently posted and who was due for their next article.  He was checking the other reporters’ Twitter feeds and Instagram posts.  Gabriel was looking for coworkers he knew personally, who actually would get the story right and the idiots who would, more or less, make _him_ look like an idiot.

But…he came up blank.

There was no one here in California.

At least _southern_ California.  One of his coworkers was doing an article up in San Francisco - but it was of the hipster variety, not of the gossip variety.

Needless to say, Gabriel was frustrated and borderline pissed.

So he did what he had to do.

He picked up the phone and called Abaddon.

It was the office phone, and he knew she would be lounging around, reading the reporters’ works to be posted tomorrow.  Gabriel only hoped his personal life wasn’t in that pile.

“Hello, Gabriel,” her voice was curt and smooth at the same time.  “How’s your article going?”

“Fine and dandy.  But that’s not why I’m calling, darling.”

“Oo, does this mean that lovely dancer finally cornered you?”  He could imagine her smirk while she leaned back in her expensive desk chair.

“Yep.  And I'm willing to bet money you helping him along wasn’t out of the goodness of your blackened heart.”  Gabriel cut right to the chase.  “I haven’t been able to pinpoint who, but I know for a fact you’re gonna be posting something about us.  You give me the reporter's name and number and I won’t flip my shit.  How does that sound?”

“Oh, Gabriel.  You act as though you have some kind of power over me.  Do I have to remind you that I’m your boss and I don’t owe you a damn thing?  Although, you’re right.  And I’m surprised you figured it out so quickly,”  she commended him.  “I’d tell you to treat yourself to a nice dinner, on me tonight, but I’ve already got the photos in my inbox that prove you accomplished that _last_ night.  And I’ve gotta say you look _quite_ handsome when you’re in love.”

“Godammit, Abby!  At least let me talk to them.  Wouldn’t it be more beneficial if you had actual quotes instead of bland speculation?  You _know_ I’m right,” Gabriel huffed, and was trying not to lose his cool to the point that Sam was actually looking concerned from where he was watching TV.

“Hmm, you bring up an interesting proposition.”  She paused for a second before deciding, “Go out tonight.  Text me where you end up.  I’ll send them to you.”

“Jesus, are we fucking spies on a covert operation, or something?!”

“Remember, your article’s due in three days.  I’ll see your draft in two.”  That was all he got before she hung up.

Gabriel had to steadily set the phone down or else he would have chucked it across the room.

Sam reached out his hand to lure Gabriel towards him and asked, “Okay, what just happened?”

Gabriel let himself be pulled to the bed as Sam crawled up to rest on his torso and he explained, “She’ll let us meet with who’s writing the article tonight.  But,” he raised a finger and tapped it on Sam’s nose, “We have to go out.  Which is helping the article even fucking _further_ , because then there will be even _more_ pictures of us out together.”

“Okay, I get we were tricked and everything - but you’re making it sound like you don’t want to be seen in public with me,” Sam teased in a way that meant he wanted Gabriel to prove him wrong.

It was little insecurities like this that still niggled at the back of his brain, because the two of them had accomplished fame and success in their own capacity.  Gabriel wasn’t regretting it, right?

“Sam, I’ll shout it from the hilltops that I’m with you.  I don’t care who sees us together, hell, I want _everyone_ to know.  What I don’t know is what kind of text this fucker is putting together.  It’s not the pics I’m worried about, it’s what the hell kind of _story_ they’re weaving.”  He brushed a stray strand of hair from Sam’s face.  “You understand that, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”  He nodded and it clicked when he thought about it, “Like, what kind of sources do they have?  Besides me.  And I didn’t even tell her the full story, just…the ending and how I needed to fix it.  Yeah," there was conviction in his voice now, "I totally understand what you’re saying.”

“So we’re gonna set the record straight with whoever the fuck Abby is having lurk from the shadows.”  Gabriel took in a deep breath, “I can’t wait to get my hands around their-”

Sam rolled on top of him with a wide grin, “You’re getting all riled up over this.”

“Because it’s personal,” Gabriel pouted.  “And I _just_ got you back.”

“Yeah, but we’re never gonna lose each other again,” Sam reminded him as he leaned forward and began sucking a small mark on his neck.  
  
One that sent a shiver down Gabriel’s spine, and had the reporter groaning out, “Reminds me of the who-done-it Vampire debacle of Swan Lake.”

“That means you’ve gotta mark me too,” he whispered in a husky voice, then drew Gabriel’s earlobe into his mouth and tugged with his teeth.  “And I’m not ready to let you go quite yet.”

“Ain’t mad at that-” Gabriel’s hands massaged along Sam’s back, before the words, “You should move in with me,” came out of nowhere and pushed past his lips.

Sam paused, pulled away so he was far enough to meet Gabriel's gaze and asked, “Are you serious?”

Gabriel honestly had no idea why he said it, but the more he thought about it in the moment, the more he wanted it.  So he went with it.

“Yeah.  Ditch your box.  You sleep over every night anyway, so you’re basically just wasting money.  Didn’t you say you wanted to be all domestic?  Hang around and relax while I’m writing before rehearsal?  I like having you here when I work.  Plus, I’ve got lots of space and… when you’re there, it feels right.”  Every word he said to justify it to Sam justified it to _himself_ and he kept gaining speed.

What began as a simple thought transformed into a something he truly wanted.

And when Gabriel said all the things that made sense, a smile began to bloom on Sam’s face and by the end he was alight with that happy puppy look.

“You totally _are_ serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“Fuck,” Sam huffed on a sharp exhale and began nodding.  “Yeah, yeah, I’d love to.  Shit, did you burn half the stuff I left at your place already, though?”

Gabriel shook his head and admitted, “I skipped town after it all went down.  Couldn’t deal with being in New York anymore knowing you were just a few blocks away.  All your stuff’s still there, kid.  You’re half moved in.”

Sam surged down to kiss Gabriel.  They were chaste pecks, because he couldn’t stop saying, “Yes,” between each kiss.

He pulled away with a goofy grin and laughed out, “This is more than I hoped for…”

“If it makes ya feel any better, that was a spur of the moment idea.  And I’m just as excited as you.”  Gabriel then quirked an eyebrow, and took advantage of Sam being distracted by shoving his head to the side and pitching upward to leave a hickey matching his own.  “Hah!”

“You’re a nerd,” Sam shook his head, still chuckling out of sheer joy and then looked at the clock.  “We’ve still got a few hours to kill…”

“And _how_ would you suggest we do that?”  Gabriel asked, all fake innocence.  “You do have me in _quite_ the compromising position, though, sir.”

“How should I ‘compromise’ you?”  Sam asked, a whole hell of a lot less innocently than Gabriel, his hand roaming underneath the reporter’s shirt while he licked his lips.

Sam was a vision.  A predatory, sexy, lewd yet strangely beautiful vision.  And when he raked his fingernails down Gabriel’s chest, leaving his nipples hard and his skin burning in that tantalizing way, Gabriel rolled his body into the touch.

He also grabbed two handfuls of Sam’s ass and rutted their hips together, while he promised, “I’m about to ‘compromise’ the fuck out of you.”

Sam looked completely smug as Gabriel began ripping both their clothes off, because he knew exactly what buttons to push.  And he was right.  They _did_ have a few hours to kill, and a lot of lost time to make up for.

\---------------

Gabriel was on a mission to get his revenge on Abby through whatever means necessary.

Since, he knew for a fact, going out tonight was just another way for her to get pictures for her article. So, knowing Sam had packed light, he decided to take the dancer shopping.

On the company card.

After all, if this was going to be news on their blog, Sam had to look good, right?

Although the dancer had reservations, Gabriel regretted _nothing_.

Sam had to admit to Gabriel in a casual way, “I’m kind of glad you’re an asshole, because I’d never have the money to buy an outfit like this,” on their way to a bar downtown.

“You’re lookin’ sharp.”  Then Gabriel even had to say, “Maybe we should have gone with a different pair of designer jeans, because I’m having trouble keeping my eyes off your ass.   _Goddamn_ , does it look good.”

“You’ve always had a thing for my ass,” he rolled his eyes.  “But seriously.  Thanks.  I love this blazer and this shirt.  It’s way nicer than that old suit I have for opening nights.  But it’s all I have, you know.”

Gabriel reached down and grabbed Sam’s hand.  “Hey, think about moving in as a financial plan, too.  You’re not gonna be living in poverty anymore.  You can save up for things you _want_ rather than things you need to _survive_ ,” he squeezed it, just to let Sam know how serious he was.  “We’ll take care of each other, okay?”

“You’re gonna have to let me pay for some stuff.  I don’t want to be a trophy boyfriend.”

“Why not?  That’s kind of sexy.”  He wiggled his eyebrows.  “We’ll figure it out.  Promise.  You won’t regret it or feel bad about money.”

“It’s so strange,” Sam commented as they walked along the sidewalk, bar in sight.  “I never opened myself up to a relationship in my entire life.  And the first time that I do… it happens to be the perfect one.”

“Well, we _did_ have a bumpy road getting here.  I don’t know if you remember _that_ part.”  Gabriel rolled his eyes as they approached where there was a hostess standing.  “I called ahead and reserved a booth.  It’s under-”

“Of course,” her eyes lit up in recognition, “Right, this way!  The other member of your party has already arrived.”

Sam and Gabriel looked between each other in confusion, but followed her through the dimly lit bar.

The partitions at the backs of the booths extended all the way up to the ceilings, so when the hostess gestured to their table, it was almost like a build-up to a mystery movie.  The woman was setting down the drink menus and Gabriel could see a feminine hand wrapped around what looked like a vodka tonic and he was just waiting for the hostess to back up so he could charge in.

Once she did and gestured for them to sit, he whipped around and sat down.

Sam followed and once they were in front of the woman, their jaws dropped and they were momentarily speechless.

“Hey, bitches!”  Charlie greeted with a smile, camera bag next to her in the seat and a huge smile on her face.  “I’ve missed you two!”

“Wait a minute…” Sam looked at Gabriel, whose brain seemed to be short-circuiting, “ _You’re_ the one who’s writing the article about us?”

“Uh, yeah.  So, long story!”

“Wait, _seriously_?!”  Gabriel was about to launch into a tirade, but they were saved by the waitress, who came and asked what they wanted to drink.

Charlie piped up, “Can we get a round of tequila shots?  And then what do you guys want?”

“Gin and Tonic and Jameson, neat,” Gabriel ordered for the two of them.

“Anyway!”  Charlie was determined to get her side of the story out before Gabriel could blow a gasket.  “Don’t be mad!  At least I’m not some random douche who doesn’t know you, all right?”

“You gotta give her that, Gabe.”  Sam felt like he was trying to dismantle a bomb.

“Okay.  Tell us your story.”  Gabriel tried to keep his voice even, because in a way, he felt betrayed since he’d gone out of his way to get her the photography gig for the Swan Lake article.

“Okay, so - after I quit the ballet I was looking around for auditions but then I realized a better idea would be taking a break from dance for a hot sec.  It was just too exhausting and switching to another company was going to be stressful as hell and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.”  She was speaking with her hands, which both men knew meant she was nervous.  “So… I reached out to your company, Gabe.  It wasn’t just photography that I wanted to do, it was photojournalism.  Abaddon was already familiar with my photographs so she wanted to see my writing chops.  I sent her a few things that I’d written for my own blog, just stuff on Tumblr, and she actually liked it.  She said I could start with small things and then all of a sudden, she calls me up and tells me she’s got a story with my name on it.  Yeah, kinda creepy Abby keeps a recorder in her room, but she sent me the conversation she and Sam had, and _oh em gee_ !  Of _course_ I had to take it!  Not just because it’s, like, the best love story of all time, because I _knew_ you guys were totes gonna get back together!  And I could air out all NYCB’s dirty laundry about how they treated us _after_ the article was published!  It’s, like, a _triple_ win!”

Her enthusiasm had affected Sam and he was nodding along with her when the shots and their drinks were set down on the table.  Gabriel…was still on the fence.

Charlie nudged his tequila towards him and in a strangely meek voice asked, “So can we cheers to this being a group effort, rather than me being a total stalker?  I’ll show you all my notes, my pics, and where I’m taking this so you don’t wanna kill me.  Because you still look like you wanna kill me.  Please?  Gabe?”

“Is this on the company card?”  He gestured to the liquor.

“You know it,” Charlie lifted hers up with a wink.

He finally took the shot glass into his hand and nodded an affirmative, “That’s my girl.  Alright, cheers to a group effort.  You sneaky little slut.”

She had the decency to look a little embarrassed, and Sam lifted his to lessen the blow.  “This is a good thing.  Charlie's right.  Cheers to the triple win.”

\--------------

Sam wanted to apply for a ‘company card.’

They were all who knows _how_ many drinks deep, and Charlie had her notes spread out around the table for Gabriel’s permission and the male reporter was armed with a pen.  Sam flipped through the photos she had printed off that were the best candidates to go on the website and he stopped when he saw a particular one.

“Charlie?”  His voice held a quality of disbelief as he studied it closely, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “ _How…_ when did you take _these_?”

He flashed the photo to her, but Gabriel couldn’t see it so he snapped his fingers with a, “Gimmie.”

When Sam handed over the photos, Gabriel was in just as much of a stupor as the dancer.

Because these weren’t pictures from where they’d been walking around Venice Beach, at the party together in West Hollywood, or hell, from when Charlie had even managed to sneak pics of them shopping _today_.

No, these were from the Swan Lake days.

One photo was taken from a distance: it was Sam and Gabriel after rehearsal and Gabriel was showing Sam something funny on his phone.  Sam was leaning in towards the other man, casually touching him like it was the most natural thing in the world.  Gabriel was snapped leaning into that touch, watching Sam’s face intently for his reaction.

How hadn’t anyone noticed them sooner?  It was _so_ fucking _obvious_ , captured on film like this.  Or maybe Charlie was just that good.

The next photo, though, that was the kicker.

It had been taken from an angle in the audience when Crowley was giving notes at the end of a rehearsal.  You could see Gabriel’s profile kicked back in one of the theater chairs, his hands poised to write something in a notebook but his line of sight was on Sam and he was wearing the smallest smile.

The reason was because even though everyone onstage was focused on Crowley, the AD had turned his back for a split second, and Sam took advantage by making a face at Gabriel.

Again, it was a secret moment they shared no one knew of.  No one was the wiser.

Except _Charlie_.  Because she _knew_ what to look for.

“Um.  I may have taken some pics of the two of you from rehearsals and not sent them to you on the memory card.”  She was chewing on her bottom lip.  “C’mon.  You can’t tell me those aren’t adorbs!”

Sam and Gabriel locked eyes and then looked back down to the pictures before Sam shook his head and grumbled, “I thought we were more subtle than that.”

“We were.  Charlie just figured it out,” Gabriel admitted to the man.  “She, uh, knew for a while.  You could say we were each other’s gay BFFs.”

“You did?!”  Sam demanded.  “You harassed me about who gave me that hickey until opening night!”

“Had to keep up the cover, didn’t I?”  She wore a Cheshire-grin and tilted her glass to Gabriel, “I was being a good friend.  Since you were keeping it on the DL.  But now that you’re official and back together, aren’t you glad you have those?”

“Can I keep these?”  Gabriel asked, his buzzed brain lacking the ability to feel embarrassed, because he wanted these - the physical proof that they‘d been much more longer than either of them was willing to admit.  “You’ve obviously got the digital copy, right?”

“Yep.  Hell, take any of ‘em you want.”  She gestured to the pile Sam was holding.  “So you’re not mad at me anymore?”

“I’m getting over it,” Gabriel decided on, as he grabbed her notes to read-through once more.  “Gotta say, you’ve got talent.  I want you to send me a copy of this story _before_ you send it to Abby though, all right?  Just consider me your editor.”

“But what if you hate it?”  Charlie stuck out her bottom lip into a pout.  “I’ll be sending it through anyway-”

“I only wanna know what to prepare for.  That’s fair, right?  Since you’re showing the goddamn world my love life.”

“It’s a love _story_!”  Charlie defended as another round of shots was placed in front of them and she looked suspiciously over to Sam.  “Was this you?”

With a shrug, he admitted, “He gets more agreeable the drunker he gets.  It’ll help your cause.”

“You’re not supposed to give away my secrets,” Gabriel narrowed his eyes but accepted the shot - which he started to lift, only to complain, “Why is this tequila, _still_?”

“Because on our first night out when we met you, that was the only thing that got Anna to loosen up, remember?”  Charlie pointed out. “This is our full-circle time.”

“Oh yeah, when I was trying to get Sam to forgive me because I didn’t know he always forgot his right foot on stage,” Gabriel grinned devilishly.  “It worked, though.  We banged the two nights later,” he placed a kiss on the dancer's cheek, before he whipped back around to Charlie and ordered, “You will _not_ put that in the article!  Keep our love affair as romantic as possible, rather than the sexscapades it was for a while.”

“Got it, boss.”

They tossed their shots back and Gabriel winced at the burn.  “I still can’t believe _you’re_ the Judas.”

“Couldn’t have been a better traitor, though, right?”  Sam set down the pictures to squeeze his leg under the table.  “At least she’s got the truth.  And we know she won’t turn it into something it’s not.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Stop being the voice of reason.”  Gabriel snatched up his hand and kissed his knuckles.

When he looked back to face Charlie, she was gawking openly and shaking her head.  “Dude, they’re gonna eat this up.  I hope I can do this sickeningly sweet drama Rom-Com justice.”

“That’s why you’re sending me your draft!” he reminded her with a very pointed finger.

“I said I would!  Hey, let’s tuck all this shit away and actually catch up!  We’re in Los Angeles!  Let’s fucking party!”

“I like this idea,” Gabriel approved with a nod.  “I like it a lot.”


	15. Finale

As soon as Gabriel wrapped up his own article, in two days time, he was clicking the send button to Abaddon and catching a flight back to New York with Sam.  The dancer didn’t hesitate to gush about how amazing first class was on his legs (or his entire frame, for that matter), and how the few times he’d been on a plane it was a claustrophobic nightmare.  Gabriel didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the open bar, and his affectionate boyfriend.  
  
It sucked the flight attendance were so attentive, because the two men had half a mind to join the mile-high club.

Once they landed, Sam had to place a call he was honestly dreading.  But the result turned out better than he thought.  It was short, to the point and lasted a total of twenty seconds.  Which was more than enough of Crowley's voice in his ear to make him cringe and leave a bad taste in his mouth.  
  
However, the moral of the story was that Crowley begrudgingly admitted he needed Sam to dance the last weekend of the show.  
  
They landed back home on Wednesday afternoon, Sam spent the entire day jogging and at the gym.  Apparently, he needed to ‘work off all the weekend splurging’ which made Gabriel roll his eyes.  As if a few days off were enough to change Sam’s perfectly chiseled body even an eighth of a pound. He offered Sam marathon sex as a substitution, but he was unfortunately turned down.  His loss.  Well, both their losses.  Whatever.  
  
So instead, Gabriel spent the whole day looking for a new subject for his next article.  Now that he was off probation (he also had a feeling Abby felt a tiny, itty-bitty modicum of sympathy because of the ill side-effects Gabriel went through because of the Swan Lake publication) he was allowed first dibs on anything that caught his eye.

When Thursday rolled around, after Sam’s workout at the gym (Gabriel knew his schedule by heart) there was a knock at the door.  Or more like, a kick.  Which had the reporter raising an eyebrow and throwing it open with a confused face.

Behind the door (of course) was Sam.  Who carried three boxes stacked atop one another, with three duffle bags hooked around his arms and two backpacks.  He was wearing a bright smile, although his voice was a bit shy when he announced, “I, uh, hope you were still serious about me moving in.  ‘Cause I got all my stuff.”

“This is _it_?”  Gabriel’s eyes widened and then cleared the door for him to enter, “And you made it all this way without biting it?”

“I know, right?!”  He actually looked damn proud of himself.  “And no one tried to mug me.  So that's a bonus, too.”

When he set down the boxes and began letting the straps of the bags fall off his arms, Gabriel rounded on him.  He wrapped his arms around Sam from behind and took a deep breath of his scent in.  Sure, he smelled like sweat and that fragrant deodorant he wore, but it was perfect.  And now he got to keep him.  For as long as he’d stay.

Sam’s arms fell to overlap Gabriel’s while he explained, “My couch is, like, a fourth-generation hand-me-down and all my other shit is from Goodwill or Salvation Army.  So these are really all the things that I think of as mine.”  He tried to shift his way around in Gabriel’s arms until he was facing the man, and sarcastically quipped, “Think you’ll have room for all this?”

“I’m sure we can jam it in somewhere.  It might be a tight squeeze but, ya know.  We'll make it work.”  He knew he was grinning like an idiot, but there was this thrumming in his heartbeat that thumped with a ridiculous kind of joy.

“I’ve got a run-through tonight,” Sam announced.  “Since I was gone for a little bit and Charlie was too, they’re calling a rehearsal to make sure we haven’t forgotten anything.”  He scoffed ruefully, “Like it hasn’t been pounded into our fucking heads enough.  But…” he paused almost nervously, “I was wondering, since it’s the last hurrah and everything...if you wanted to come see the final performances?”

“I’d love to,” Gabriel answered immediately.  “But isn’t it sold out?”  Although he phrased it like a question, he knew it to be a fact.  Since it _was_ his article that put bodies into each and every one of those seats.

“I’m sure I could pull some strings.  There have to be some house seats that are available.”  Sam smiled and ran a hand through Gabriel’s hair.  “It only makes sense, since you were there at the beginning, you should be there at the end.”

“I’m just happy I made it to the end.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Hey, harass Charlie about that article,” Gabriel smacked Sam in the rear, “Since you’re seeing her tonight and all that.  I know they’re gonna post it soon and she better not have bullshitted and already submitted it.”

“She wouldn’t.”  Sam grabbed Gabriel’s shoulders.  “Trust me, I know Charlie.  And not only is she a good person and would never lie to you, there’s also the fact that she’s _afraid_ of you.  And she’s a huge chicken when it comes to friends she’s afraid of.”

“Good.”  A wolfish smirk crossed Gabriel’s face, “I like to be feared.  Doesn’t happen all that often, so I’ll take it where I can get it.”

With a roll of his eyes, Sam gestured to the boxes.  “Most of this is clothes and my dance gear.  Where do you want me to put it?”

“C’mon.  Help me clear out a drawer.”  Gabriel waved him along, “It’s so official!  I love it.”

As Sam followed him up the stairs, he couldn’t help but say, “I love you,” because the words were coming so much easier these days.

And now that he could say it without stumbling over the syllables, he’d never stop.

\----------------

Being back inside the theater was strange.

Some people had stolen glances at Gabriel, attempting to figure out if he was who they thought he was, and some passers-by were much more discreet than others.  Some openly gawked, and Gabriel couldn’t help but blatantly wink in return - which made them snap their focus away, blushing.

He didn’t care, not one bit.

He was here to support Sam in his last performance with a Company he was eager to be done with.  Gabriel had come alone so it was easy for Sam to wrangle him one of the best seats they left open for any last-minute VIP.  Gabriel obviously happened to fall into that category.  Much to Crowley’s anger.

But there wasn’t much the AD could do about it: the three he’d fired were untouchable, in a way.

They could say whatever the hell they wanted, they could do whatever the hell they wanted, as long as they performed the ballet perfectly - which Crowley begrudgingly knew he could count on.  Especially for the final performance of their careers on this stage.  They’d want to go out on top.

Meg, Charlie and Sam weren’t petty.

None of them were about to throw the show, and start doing some bullshit Cupid Shuffle in the middle.  Crowley was an idiot for firing the actual class-acts.

The timing was surprisingly perfect, because right before Gabriel reached for his phone with the intention to turn it off - a text from Charlie buzzed through.  She asked him to spin around outside and meet him by the backstage door.

While he was a bit perplexed, he followed her instructions.

Gabriel had to excuse his way through the crowd of people bustling in and make a quick right to use one of the exit doors, since he knew it’d be futile to head out the way he came in.  He took notice the line was wrapped around the block and the show began in fifteen minutes, so he was hoping Charlie had a way to sneak him back in.  He wasn’t about to wait in that goddamn line again - especially because the box office had already torn his ticket stub.

With another turn down the alley, he caught sight of one of the ensemble dancers he never got the chance to know as well as Charlie urging him down.  He picked up his pace, and noticed she was holding something behind her back which caught his interest.

“Don‘t you look all dapper today,” Charlie teased and shimmied her shoulders.  “You clean up nice.”

“Thanks, my little Swan.  Now, what’s with the cryptic text?”  He asked, and was immediately answered when she produced a folder from behind her back.

“The article.”  She presented a proud smile as he took it from her hands.  “It’s the text and all the embedded photos for your viewing pleasure.  I hope you’re a-okay with it, because it’s scheduled to print tomorrow - since the show’s officially closed and we need it to be relevant.”

“Not much notice, huh?”  He sighed dramatically, but understood how deadlines were.

“You said to get it to you the day before!  I was performing all weekend, so putting it together made me feel like I was in college again, pulling all-nighters with my trusty case of Red Bull!”  She put her hands on her hips, “And this is a matinee, dude, how much earlier could I have gotten it to you?  Did you want breakfast plus my article in bed this morning?  Like I’d risk my virgin eyes, ‘cause I know you and Sam would be all naked and cuddling.”

“Or in the middle of morning sex,” he wiggled his eyebrows, then quickly added, “I know, Char, I’m teasing.”  Gabriel tried to put forward his best face, but his hands were fidgeting around the folder.

Mostly, because he was dying to know what was inside.

“Ew.  Anyway, I thought you’d like a hard copy.  And I knew you’d be at the show so I waited for that too.”  Her smile turned smaller yet genuine.  “I really think you’ll like it.”

“Has Sam read it yet?”

“Nope.  You’ve got the first read, just like you wanted.”

“Good deal.”  He fiddled with the object in his hands, and asked suspiciously, “Why is it so heavy?  What have you done?”

A grin spread on the redhead’s face when she finally realized, “You’re hella _nervous_.”

“No, I’m _not_.”

“Yes, you _are_!  The question is why?”

“You’d be nervous if your love life was aired publicly for the world to see,” he defended quickly.  “I’m used to reporting on _others_ , not being reported _on_.  Do you see why this is a little weird, Red?”

“You’re nervous about what _Sam’s_ gonna say,” the epiphany hit her.  “Sweetheart, you two are crazy about each other.  Nothing in that folder’s gonna change that.”  She closed the distance between the two of them and wrapped her arms around Gabriel.  “I promise.  And we’re coworkers now!  So you can talk Abby into giving me the shitty stuff, like she gave you.”

“Sometimes shitty doesn’t turn out that way,”  Gabriel reminded her and hugged her back.  “All right, you kill it on stage, yeah?  I gotta head back in.  Merde!”

“Look at you!”  Charlie looked so proud of him in that moment. “We’ve got an educated, honorary dancer, folks!”

Gabriel blew a kiss and turned his back, walking towards the exit door he came from.  He prayed it was accidentally unlocked, and for once - he got his wish.  He slipped back into the theater, the folder feeling like a ton of rocks in his arm and quickly took his seat.

He had to read what he could get through before the curtain went up, because his curiosity was killing him.

He flipped it open and pulled out the stack of papers in front of him and began reading:

\---------------

Hey there, to all the fabulous readers of **In A Nutshell**!

My name’s Charlie Bradbury, your newest blogger (hopefully here to stay), but some of you may recognize me as that ‘one redhead’ who danced Odile in the second leg of the New York City Ballet’s run of _Swan Lake_.  Yep.  I know you’ve heard about _that_.

Trust me, I’ve seen the dubstep remixes featuring our Artistic Director from Hell: Crowley, with all his ’encouraging’ speeches and stellar compliments.  Or maybe you’ve heard of the sassy Meg Masters and her honest thoughts behind body image in the dance world.  At the very least, you’ve seen Sam Winchester’s ass.  Don’t even _try_ to lie about that.  

I _know_ you’re lying.

But what you don’t know about, is the behind-the-scenes of the behind-the-scenes.  Did I just Inception you?  Here, I’ll make it a bit clearer:

What our fan favorite blogger, Mr. Gabriel: The Nutcracker, left out of his riveting tell-all article about _Swan Lake_ (who’d have thought _that_ was possible) was the fact there was a romance going on behind the curtain.

Actually, in front of the curtain.

I’m here to tell you an unlikely (but completely flipping AWESOME) love story that you never saw coming.

And neither did Sam Winchester.  

Upon their first meeting, Gabriel decided to introduce himself with the battle cry of ‘Jete!’ and assumed our leading man (with rippling muscles, at a towering 6’4”) would catch him.  Gabriel launched himself into the air with wild abandon, momentarily trying to fulfill his own ballet dreams, hoping be lifted elegantly into a pose by Prince Siegfried himself.

The moment fell flat.  

As did Sam and Gabriel.  

Flat onto their backs onto the dirty streets of New York.  I’m about to give away a little secret: Sam has two left feet the _moment_ he walks off stage.

This accidental assault not only flustered and enraged Sam, but lead to the first words ever spoken between the two.

Gabriel, while straddling a livid professional ballet dancer, rolled his eyes and told him, point-blank: “That was disappointing.”

This goes to show you that first impressions aren’t everything.  Love at first sight may or may not exist.  However, I know these two men have fought against all odds and are head-over-heels for each other.

[ _Photograph at Venice Beach holding hands_ ]

What happened in the middle, you ask?

A cubic fuckton of drama, miscommunication, heartbreak, and actually learning _how_ to love.

It’s my pleasure to tell you the story of two amazing men, who I call my friends, and their journey to happiness.  Here’s a story way better than _Swan Lake_ with a lot less fouettes and little to no camel toe.  Already better than the ballet, right?

\---------------

Gabriel finished the article while Sam was changing down in the dressing rooms.  He knew it was going to take longer than usual tonight - because he was saying his goodbyes. 

And they weren’t mere goodbyes for the season, they were goodbyes forever.  

Sam probably wouldn’t see any of the New York City Ballet's cast again.  Crowley ran a dictatorship.  He’d bar Sam from ever hanging out at rehearsals, or taking part in open classes, it was a given - and Gabriel knew he’d have to take care of Sam tonight.

He wasn’t sure what _kind_ of care it would be.

The farewells gave him more than enough time to read over Charlie’s article and _holy shit_ , he could feel his chest constricting as he read it.  Being printed out on paper and put into words?  The things they’d been through?  And how just recently they’d made it out by the skin of their teeth?

It made Gabriel grateful all over again that it happened.

He scrubbed a hand down his face to make sure there weren’t any physical signs of what these sentences did to him.  He had to give Charlie credit - she did a bang-up job.  Gabriel wasn’t sure what he should have been expecting with this article but the final product curled in his hand...was _not_ it.

There was a chance the papers were trembling a little, so he abruptly crossed his arms and took a deep breath.  A deep breath he had no idea he needed.  
  
As he jammed the pages back into the folder, he noticed they were a little bent from where his desperate hands had clenched them a bit too tightly while he was reading the close-to-home story.  Hell, it was almost like an out-of-body experience, and he needed to grip the pages to remind himself these were _just letters_  on paper.  He needed something physical to hold on to in order to keep him grounded.     
  
Yet...the photos were _pristine_.  Gabriel handled each and everyone of those with care, taking in the small details and attempting to keep his shit together because his heart was all over the place.  
  
Now the folder was closed and held flush to his chest as he mused over all the things Charlie had written.  How she had put so many things he couldn’t have said or constructed by himself into words.  Gabriel couldn’t wait for Sam to read this.  Maybe this could get across even more of what-

“Hey there, handsome,” a familiar voice cooed and he looked up to see Meg approach him.

A smile easily overtook his face when he saw her and asked, “You glad to be free of the tyrant?  Or is it bittersweet?”

“Felt nice to give Crowley the final ‘fuck you,’ I’ve gotta say.  And I’m strangely used to cutting ties with people, so it’s just another day in the life,” she admitted with a shrug, then watched him with a critical eye.  “Not to mention, I have a new Company all lined up.  Something that Mr. Winchester had a hand in.  But now I can’t help but wonder why you’ve decided to show up after Heartbreak Hotel?”

It was then he saw Sam bounding up quickly from behind her, and Gabriel couldn’t help but chuckle when the dancer ducked around Meg (with a surprising amount of grace) and pulled him into a very public, very unashamed kiss.  

Gabriel was caught off guard but kissed him back, and when Sam pulled away the reporter asked, “Happy to see me?”

“Happy to be done with this.”  He shrugged and turned around to face Meg.  “I’ll see you at rehearsals in two weeks?”

Her eyes flipped between the two men in confusion, and Gabriel remembered her previous question before Sam had interrupted.

“Don’t worry,” Gabriel assured her, “It’ll all make sense tomorrow.  It’ll be all over the fuckin’ internet.”

“Oh _God_.  What have you two done?”  She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes.

“Something we should have done a long time ago.”  Sam was the one to answer her before he asked Gabriel, “Take me home with you?”

“It’s _our_ home now,” he reminded.

“Right,” Sam was wearing the most brilliant smile Gabriel had ever seen.  “Let’s go home.”

With a firm slap to his ass, Gabriel readily agreed, “I’ve got an article for you to read.  Then, there will be victory sex.”

“I _didn’t_ need to hear that!” Meg lamented at the two began walking away.  “But, uh, congrats?”

“Thanks,” Sam was in happy-puppy-mode as he threw the word over his shoulder and eagerly took Gabriel’s hand into his.

Even though they were still in the theater with people milling around, neither cared to show their affection for one another.

They no longer had to hide, they could be them for the rest of the world to see, because soon everyone would know anyway.  It was liberating, in a way - but more than anything they were beginning a new chapter.

Hell, maybe they were writing a new _book_.  

Gabriel walked with his head held high, buzzing with happiness - while he proudly held Charlie’s prologue in one hand and Sam’s hand in the other.


End file.
